


Ways To Go

by maydayparade8123



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Artist!Annabeth, Concerts, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Musician!Percy, lots of self-indulgent rambling about pop punk, nice, specifically guitar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 68,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydayparade8123/pseuds/maydayparade8123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy likes music and Annabeth used to like painting and somewhere in between it all, there's something.</p><p>(Or, the one where Percy's in a band. He makes Annabeth forget why she stopped painting in the first place.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, this is my first chaptered fic in a while and at first, I had a lot of technicalities with it. After uploading it, deleting it, and rewriting it: here's my new fanfiction titled Ways To Go. I hope you like it.
> 
>  **EDIT (9/25/2015):** Hello! Thank you so, so much for reading this work; it means the world to me. Truly. I want to apologize beforehand for any inconsistencies/mistakes--the story is a little bit older and I keep promising myself one day I'm going to go back and edit it, but you know how procrastination works. I hope you enjoy!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention.

When she hears the two clicks and a whistle, she already knows what’s happening outside her window without even casting her eyes towards the cold glass.

Nico di Angelo, and possibly another boy or two, are staring up at the bedroom window of Percy Jackson. He has just thrown two rocks, paired with a distinct whistle so that his identity is known. If she didn’t have the knowledge she had, Annabeth would have assumed that someone let their dog out and was calling them back. She tries to keep reading the study guide, repeating the words out loud and inside her mind, but the hushed laughter and shhh’s are too much to ignore.

She has only gone to peer down at the commotion twice: the first being the initial time she heard the noises and the second being pure curiosity. She never has figured out where Percy and his friends go when they sneak out, but she assumes that it was the typical raging party with a lot of drugs, alcohol consumption, and sex. It seems only logical; after all, she’s heard many girls explain in detail just _what_ they would do to Percy and his broody friends. They were bad in the way that was hardly scary, but rather made the girls stare and the boys question their sexuality. Staring out the window, seeing silhouettes and the headlights of a car parked further down the block, her interest spikes. Almost so much that she considers throwing her window open and calling out to them.

There’s three of them. They started shuffling to the sidewalk, surely headed for the car, but one of the silhouettes pauses. She tries to make out who it is, but the dim street lights lining the road do her no good. The dark form of a person raises one hand, deliberately in her direction, as if they know ( _hope?_ ) she’s watching. Annabeth back at a surprising speed, closing her curtains and flicking off the lamp light, showering herself in darkness. She thinks she hears laughter, but it could be the wind.

When she glances out the window again, all she sees is an empty road and a flickering, yellow street light.

**\--**

It was Saturday, which was a day of rest for most teenagers in her relatively small town. However, for Annabeth, it meant waking up at five in the morning in order to arrive at her job by six.

She had been working at the candy store since the middle of her sophomore year. The moment she had turned fifteen, Annabeth had applied for every job she could, desperate to save up as much money as she possible. Of course, her father had promised to pay for her college, but it never hurt to get ahead of the game. 20 percent of her biweekly paycheck went into her savings account, and the rest was spent on purchasing gas and the occasional coffee from the family bakery down the street. Money wasn’t tight for her by any means, but she preferred saving over spending. It would benefit her more in the long run.

The candy shop— _Sweet on America_ —was a small, cutesy joint between a bookstore and a daycare. Annabeth’s boss was Sally Jackson, who was conveniently her neighbor and one of her good friends. Since Sally firmly believed that hiring a multitude of teenagers with a tendency to sleep in and miss shifts was a liability, Annabeth was one of the youngest employees. As of right now, her only age-appropriate coworker was a skittish boy named Grover who was a friend of Sally’s son. When work picked up in the summer, Sally would most likely hire a few more adolescents desperate for a summer job.

The uniform was simple: turquoise polo with a logo on the right and a name tag pinned beneath it, paired with any kind of khaki bottoms. Annabeth usually opted for khaki pants, but Sally was often seen in skirts. Sometimes, on special holidays, Ms. Jackson would buy them themed hats or aprons.

Annabeth’s favorite days were hot ones, which weren’t exactly an uncommon occurrence in the place she called home: California. Kids of all ages would pile in for ice cream or the other cold treats available, which kept her busy. Oftentimes, customers straggled in so that there were only one or two people meandering around the shop at a time. Those days left her with too much free time, leaving her restless and something close to overbearing when a person walked through the doors.

Her work technically wouldn’t start until seven in the morning. It took around an hour to open, setting out the signs with eye-catching colors and bubbly handwriting. They had at least one special going every day; Annabeth picked the sour candies that were amazing but didn’t get very many sales for today. Sally usually arrived thirty minutes later than her, having picked out some sort of breakfast for the morning staff, which meant that Annabeth got first dibs.

She and Sally would make the few tables around the shop customer friendly by adding chairs and arrangements of treats. The other workers typically breezed in five to ten minutes before the clock hit six, greeting everyone and shrugging their jackets off if they wore one. The morning shift usually only needed around three workers, even on the especially warm days. Most people weren’t awake enough to have a craving for candy.

Today though, today was weird. In fact, someone wandered into the shop that Annabeth knew would _never_ be caught dead in a place that was more or less an explosion of color and sweetness. That is, unless it was of dire, desperate need.

The boy who entered was Percy Jackson, son of her boss and teenager in her grade. She didn’t know much about him—something that irked her to no end; weren’t boys and girls who were in the same grade _and_ neighbors supposed to be close friends? He glanced around the place, and not a moment of his precious eyesight was wasted on her.

She raised an eyebrow at his entry, but ultimately shrugged to herself and continued to organize the mess behind the counter. It wasn’t until she heard him clear his throat that she realized he was leaning on the marble countertop and waiting for assistance.

“Oh!” Annabeth said, springing up and dusting off imaginary dirt from her clothes. For some reason, she looked away from his eyes as soon as she met them. She wasn’t _shy_ , not at all, but he looked at almost everyone as if they were transparent. It unnerved her. “Sorry... Can I help you?”

It must have been something in the tone of her voice, or the expression on her face, that causee him to chuckle. “You’re shocked I’m here.”

She stared at the counter—the brightest of greens with gold swirls. “Can you blame me?” Percy was the last person she’d peg as a candy lover. In fact, he seemed like more of a nails-for-breakfast and sheets-of-metal-for-lunch type guy. While he didn’t have a single tattoo or piercing, Annabeth figured he would end up with too many to count. Right now, he was probably at least _attempting_ to look normal for the sake of his mother. When he pulled at the collar of his Panic At The Disco shirt, she decided that he was _definitely_ the last person she expected to see in a candy store.

“I can’t, I suppose,” he muttered back, leaning both of his palms on the counter, leaving Annabeth to subconsciously examine his arms; they were normal lengthwise with just enough muscle but not too much. She imagined them on a off-white paper, the lines drawn in graphite. She had never been good at capturing people’s image when drawing in pen or pencil, though. Sighing, he looked around the bright store, and eventually back to Annabeth. “So, how have you been?”

“Same as the last time you asked,” she replied, knowing it was a lie. The last time he’d asked was two months ago. “Still working, still studying—”

“Still being superwoman,” Percy finished with his signature smirk. Annabeth thought she must have been immune to it, seeing as so many girls fell over themselves to see that smirk. It hardly affected her. In response, she nodded, and the teenage boy chuckled and rested his weight on his elbows. “Is my mom here?”

“She went on break five minutes ago. She’ll probably be back in ten.”

“Good,” he said, “because I needed to talk to you about something. Actually, two somethings.”

Okay, so maybe Annabeth was immune to his adorable smile, but those words admittedly made her heart race a little. “Alright?” _Oh God_ , she thought in both horror and confusion, _there's that stupid Back To School bash in a few weeks_. People dressed up and went crazy for that, renting expensive cars and asking around for dates. She pursed her lips and clung to the fact that Percy didn't really seem like the formal event kind of guy.

He cleared his throat and avoided her eyes for a moment. “First of all, I need to get my mom a really good present, but I can’t think of anything. Her birthday’s soon, and she mentions how close you two are all the time so I figured I better ask you.” Annabeth opened her mouth to start listing off suggestions, but Percy kept talking. “And, I really, really, _really_ need you to cover for me.”

“Cover for you,” she repeated, the idea of the dance teetering back and forth on the edge of her mind.

Percy pushed his hair down in a pointless attempt to make it appear less unkempt. “Yeah.”

“Where are you going?”

“Warped Tour,” he said with an excited grin, nearly making her sigh in relief. “I’ve wanted to go forever, and now I’ll be a senior, so I’m old enough to not get any dirty looks for being a five year-old. I just don’t think Mom would be too fond of the idea, and that’s where you come in.”

Annabeth felt a little uncomfortable. The only time she’d ever lied for someone was in third grade, and it was to keep her best friend Thalia from getting sent home to her mom for hitting a boy. “I see you’ve carefully thought this through,” she said, with some honesty but more sarcasm. “What all do I have to do?”

“So you’re in? Just like that?” Percy seemed pleasantly surprised. That smile was back now; a tinge of confusion added to the way one side of his mouth quirked up.

“Not just yet,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the terms?”

“I was thinking I’d tell my mom that me and you were going to have a study date—”

“ _You_ and _I_ ,” Annabeth corrected distastefully. Percy sent her a desert dry look and sighed loudly. “I thought Warped Tour was for, like, a week?” she continued in confusion. How were they going to be ‘studying’ for a whole week?

“No, no,” Percy rushed to explain. “It’s an all day event, and it’s two Saturdays from now.”

“I work on Saturdays, every week, so that’s out of the—”

“ _But_ ,” he said, in a bargaining voice, “if Mom thinks you’re helping me with Trig, you won’t _have_ to work.”

“How late will you be back?”

“Probably around 1 AM. Or something like that. I’ll just keep texting her and saying that we’re watching movies or something.”

“This is an awful plan,” Annabeth deadpanned. “ _Awful_ plan. You do realize that I live _right next to you_. She could easily come over and see that you aren’t there.”

“But you’ll be able to convince her that I am.” He rolled his lip between his teeth and seemed a little anxious. “Look, you’re literally my only hope for this. Mom trusts you so much that she would probably let me sleep over at your house for three weeks straight and insist that I stay for longer. She wants us to be friends _really_ bad.”

The blond’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

“Hell if I know,” Percy answered, leveling his gaze with Annabeth. “It would really, really, _really_ mean a lot to me if you could at least try and pull this off. Me and my friends have been planning Warped for senior year for at least three years. I’ll do whatever you want in return. _Anything_.”

She wanted to be angry with him for asking her to lie to someone who trusted her so much. She wanted to slap him and tell him to leave the store. She wanted to ask him _why_ , if they'd been planning for years, _did it just occur to him that his mother wouldn't go for the idea?_ But in the end, all she said was “I’m in.”

Percy’s grin was so wide that it even made her smile this time. He reached across the counter and grabbed both her hands, squeezing them tightly. Annabeth wasn't sure if her pulse was faster from his touch or anger at his touch. “Thank you, oh my god! You’re literally the best person ever, I can’t ever thank you enough for—”

“What’s going on over here?” Annabeth glanced past Percy to see his mother, just as ageless and pretty as always. It hardly even occurred to her than he was still gripping her hands with enthusiasm, but it didn’t seem to escape Sally’s notice. “Am I interrupting—?”

“No, no!” he said quickly. “Annabeth just agreed to help me with Trig.” Belatedly, he followed his mother’s quick look and released her hands, pushing his into his front pockets.

“You seem really happy about that,” Sally commented slyly, hip-checking her son. The blond briefly noticed his eyes widen and Ms. Jackson’s polite smile widening a bit more. “When’s the date?”

“Not a date,” Percy piped up quickly. “But, it’ll probably be—”

“A few days during the week,” Annabeth interjected, “and whichever Saturdays Percy has time.” He shot her a look, obviously not following where she was going with that, but the teenage girl smiled up at Sally. “I told him Saturdays weren’t the best because I have work in the mornings, but—”

“Oh, no!” her boss interrupted. “Oh, Annabeth, if you’ll help Percy’s grade in that class, you can have every Saturday for the rest of your life off. I’ll give you more hours on weekdays to make up for it; all it’ll take is some shifting of the schedule.”

Annabeth smiled. Her plan had worked. “Are you sure, Ms. Jackson—I mean, _Sally_?”

The older woman’s maternal grin was so big that her face was probably close to breaking. “Oh, yes, yes, yes, I’m positive. I’ve been waiting for _ever_ for you and Percy to—”

“Right! Thanks, Mom!” Percy said brightly. “I just hope I can get the grade up before graduation, you know?”

“You will. Especially if Annabeth here is on your side.”

He nodded in agreement, sending his new asset a grateful look. “So, anyways, I gotta run. Hanging with the guys.” Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the way Sally’s face fell a little bit; it made her flashback to a few sad conversations with the woman about how much she missed her son. “I’ll see you whenever, Annabeth. Bye, Mom.” He leaned down a little and kissed her cheek (out of habit, more likely than not) and looked mildly embarrassed as he waved at Annabeth and left the shop.

A few minutes later, Sally started blabbering about how nice it was that her two favorite teens were starting to be friends, and Annabeth noticed that she’d never helped him pick out a present for his mom. Deciding that they’d work all of that out on Monday, she put the whole occurrence out of her mind, humming and nodding at all the appropriate times as Sally continued to talk.

Work that day, and her four hour shift the following day, seemed to pass by incredibly slow. There was nothing to anticipate, so at first Annabeth wasn’t sure why. However, by the time she was leaving Sweet on America Sunday afternoon, she realized that it was because she kept glancing at the door and waiting for someone to walk in. Someone that would never be caught dead in a candy shop.

It was unfathomable as to _why_ she was waiting on Percy to enter the shop again, but Annabeth decided it had to be his eyes. As intense and unsettling as they were, that was far from what bothered her. Annabeth's hands itched to paint them; pull the old box of brushes and dried up colors out of her closet. She'd long since abandoned painting and all other forms of traditional art, but there was something about Percy: his demeanor, his expressions, his appearance. There was something about the boy that was simply _paintable_.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, Annabeth couldn’t even be upset about having to wake up for school. She wanted the business with Percy to be over and done with as soon as possible; she had a certain hatred for owing people favors, no matter if they were mysterious boys next door or her own father.

She slung her backpack onto her back seat and settled behind the wheel, waving at her neighbors who were out gardening together. The ride to school was just as quick as it was silent, since Annabeth had never been especially fond of any music she’d heard, and the silence gave her a few moments to get her ducks in a row and organize her schedule for the day.

 _First order of the day: find Percy. Devise a plan. Then, think over what you’ve gotten yourself into,_ Annabeth listed inwardly, with a remorseful tinge to every word.

When she entered the double doors, she made a beeline for where she knew Percy would be. He always gathered with his friends right next to her third period English class since it was close to Nico and Percy’s lockers, approximately half of their brigade. She managed to catch his eye and wave him over without having to pass through his throng of music fanatics, thankfully. He wandered over to her and she leaned against the closest locker in an attempt to look more casual and not draw attention to the fact that a argyle-sweater-lover girl was talking to a ripped-jeans-and-leather-jacket-wearing guy.

He opened his mouth to start a conversation, but she beat him to it. “Arrange your mom a blind date. She’s been considering getting back into dating. And for God’s sake, spend a day with her. She says that you’re always out with friends or holed up in your room these days.” Percy looked a little upset, but he nodded. Annabeth’s English teacher breezed past them, raising an eyebrow at what seemed like a breach of the status quo, but nodding in greeting to her. “Arrange it with _him_ ,” she added after Mr. Blofis disappeared into his classroom. “He’s just her type: aspiring novelist, likes kids, loves Ernest Hemingway.”

“My mom likes Ernie Hemsworth? Is that Liam's dad or something?”

“ _Ernest Hemingway_ ,” Annabeth repeated, looking at Percy as though he were a dirty pair of socks. “Tell your mom that we’re studying on Tuesdays and Thursdays at the library. But we don’t actually have to,” she added after a moment. “Understand?”

Percy seemed somewhat confused, but she caught a bit of bewilderment in his eyes. Her mind floated to the metallic green she always mixed with light blues to paint the sea. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. How did you think of all that?”

“Some of us _do_ think ahead,” she informed him with an eyeroll. “Go back to your friends. If they open their mouths any wider and they’ll drop their cigarettes—which _aren’t_ supposed to be on campus, by the way.” He still seemed amazed, and Annabeth couldn’t fathom why, but he met her eyes and smiled.

“Thanks. For everything.” With a half-assed salute, Percy turned away and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, making some joke that made his friends laugh. Satisfied, she turned away and stopped by her locker to retrieve her Trig book. As long as he didn’t do anything dumb, the plan was fairly simple. And two Saturdays from now, she would be free of debt and back on her normal schedule of rushing through high school to get to college. Every day was one step closer to complete and total independence, complete and total focus on her career and the rest of her life—something she had planned in such vastness that she could probably predict what would happen seven years, three minutes, and six seconds from now.

 _Is that why you quit painting?_ some voice in her mind mocked, making Annabeth slam her locker shut a bit too hard. _You never knew how it would come out when you sat down in front of an easel. The unpredictability killed you._

Annabeth wished she could think of a response to shout back at the voice in her head, but she couldn’t find anything worthy. She wasn’t crazy by any means—it wasn’t the voice of another person, but her own. Somehow that was worse.

Pushing all thoughts of art, Percy’s lines, and unpredictability from her head, she turned to a place that _was_ predictable: her math classroom. The same thing happened everyday. The students would file in, the teacher would drone on with a lesson no one cared about, then she would assign homework. Annabeth would finish it before the bell rang.

Some people would brand Annabeth as a workaholic, but she called herself driven. She could easily see past the fake, pointless virtues of high school and into the future. She knew that in the end, it was the most important thing. College applications didn’t ask you how cool your clothes were or how many people you’d dated. Besides, she tended to reason, five or ten years from now, no one would even care.

(And sometimes, this daring part of her brain whispered that maybe, just maybe, she was too scared to be a teenager—a real one, one that made mistakes and kissed too many boys and cried herself to sleep from heartbreak. Sometimes, that part would tell her that she only made up the reasoning to cover up the fear. But never, under any circumstances, did Annabeth let herself believe that it was true.)

**\--**

> _He agreed in a heartbeat. Thanks for the suggestion, Annabeth. See you on Thursday for studying. And if you’re Mom, you should feel awful for reading this._

“He told me to give you that,” Sally said from her place at the counter, her eyes drifting down to the note in the girl’s hand. “I would have given it to you earlier, but it completely slipped my mind.” She shrugged. “Just my old age. I promised him I wouldn’t read it, but I am curious as to what it says.”

“You aren’t old,” Annabeth told her with a pointed look. The woman was youthful, looking at least ten years younger than her age. “He just said that he made a good grade on his Trig quiz and that he can’t wait for our next session,” she continued, lying smoothly.

Sally seemed disappointed. “Something that trivial? Couldn’t he have just texted you? I mean—”

“Ms. Jackson?” She turned to Grover, who was holding a ripped package. “I found this on that table, but I figured we shouldn’t keep it...” Annabeth slipped away, heading off to the stock room to avoid further questioning.

She heard a faint “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Underwood! Toss it outside, if you would?” behind her as she entered the room full of well-labeled boxes and packages, the impeccable organization being all her doing.

 _Of course Mr. Blofis agreed in a heartbeat_ , Annabeth thought to herself. _He comes in the candy shop near religiously, and it sure as hell isn’t for the least popular sour candy he buys._ She grabbed a box of Werther’s original caramel candies, the treats that typically sold well and always needed restocking. If they didn’t, Annabeth would just shift them around a little bit and examine other canisters and shelves to pass the time. Today was Wednesday, which meant the slowest day at work all week long, but it was only another hour before closing, thankfully. Then she could go home, kick back, and study for her—

“Annabeth!”

“Ma’am?” she called back craning her neck to where Sally stood behind the counter with a phone pressed against her shoulder.

The older woman smiled. “Percy’s on the phone. He says he has ‘urgent things’ to discuss. Feel free to go on your break! I’ll clock you out.”

“Oh, but I’ve already taken my...” Annabeth stopped talking as Sally slipped out of earshot, seemingly not caring that she was giving her a second break. Mentally preparing herself, she pressed the phone to her ear and answered, “What?”

“Go out with me tonight.”

Annabeth nearly choked on air. “Are you _crazy_?”

“There’s this thing. Mom forced me into last second plans tonight, but I _have_ to go. She won’t support it unless she knows you’re going.”

“Percy, I have better things to do—”

“Like what? Study for a test you have _three_ _weeks_ from now? Live a little, Chase. Go out with me tonight.”

Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re absolutely _crazy_ if you thought I’d agree.”

“I’ve seen you look out the window when I leave at night. I know you wonder where we go. Stop thinking so much and just go out with me.” His voice, rather than being gentle and hopeful earlier, now seemed commanding. Too smug for her liking when he mentioned how he knew she glanced out the window sometimes. “Unless, of course, you’re scared.”

Annabeth scowled. “Don’t even! I’m not _scared_ , I’m just—”

“Scared,” Percy finished. “Annabeth Chase is scared to take a chance. Scared to go out and live life for one day. Scared to be scared of being caught and scared of maybe having _fun_ for once! You know what that word means? Have you _ever_ experienced _fun_?”

His words made her eyes sting briefly, _definitely_ from being overheated from anger. “Shut up! I’m not scared!”

“Oh, _sure_ ,” Percy mocked. “Of _course_ you aren’t. Can’t risk the chance? Can’t risk _anything_?”

“Stop! Just stop!” Annabeth yelled, her anger spiking at the fact that for once she was wrong, and Percy, the unlikeliest, was right. “You don’t even know me! I’m not scared of anything!” _Besides spiders_ , she silently added.

“Then go out with me!”

“ _Fine!_ ”

“ _Great!_ ” Percy shouted back in the same tone. “I’ll get you at seven.”

“ _Great!_ ” she mimicked, hanging up the phone. “Asshole.”

“Annabeth, dear?”

She jumped, sheepishly turning to see Sally leaning out of the employee lounge. “Ma’am?”

“Is everything... alright?”

“Oh, yes ma’am,” she told her, deciding to milk this ‘going out’ for everything it was worth. “Percy just asked me on a date, actually.”

“There was quite a bit of yelling,” Sally said carefully, giving Annabeth a once-over.

“Inside jokes,” she waved off, sending the woman a charismatic grin.

This made the older woman smile. “ _Oh_ ,” she said. “When’s he getting you? And where’s he taking you?”

“Seven,” Annabeth breathed. “And I haven’t the slightest clue.”

**\--**

She was starting to regret not having a more civil conversation with Percy. It was nearing six-thirty and she was still standing before her closet in sweatpants and a t-shirt, without a single inkling as to how she was supposed to dress.

Another t-shirt seemed too casual. A button-up seemed too dressy. A tank top was too daring.

That made her scowl. Percy seemed to be griping about the fact that she wasn’t daring enough, and the thought itself made the decision for her. She pulled a velvet red, ribbed tank top off of the hanger and changed into it, deciding on a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans—a deep blue like the darkest part of the ocean. They were the ones that she never wore, since they had slits and holes in them that were too outgoing for her. Annabeth wanted— _needed_ —to prove that she wasn’t frightened. She could be daring. She could have fun. No matter where he was taking her.

Something about the way Percy carried himself made her feel the need to instate herself as a ‘cool’ person, when she was the furthest thing from that. Cool people didn’t hide behind a closed door all day alternating between reading, studying, and staring at an old painting on the wall. Her dad, who had already squeezed her shoulder and disappeared into his office for the night following their dinner, knew that she was going out. He didn’t seem to mind who with though, since all he did was nod and say, “That’s fine, sweetheart.”

Still, as a precaution, Annabeth pulled a bulky jacket off of the hanger and tossed it on her bed. She looked in her tall mirror, examining her outfit as she usually did before she went anywhere. While Annabeth wasn’t anything close to vain, she did prefer to look nice. Deciding that her outfit was bold enough, at least by her definition, she pulled out her math notes to edge a good ten minutes of studying in.

By the time her doorbell rang, the most she’d accomplished was reading a paragraph of notes three times with a stunning lack of focus and comprehension of every word she read. Of course, she knew the material, but she was too preoccupied to determine what the value of ‘y’ was at the moment, much less work against her dyslexia.

Nearly forgetting the jacket, Annabeth rushed down the steps, simultaneously zipping it up in case her dad decided to make an appearance. Calling out a “bye, Dad!” Annabeth flung the door open and closed it behind her. _No looking back now_ , she told herself, taking a deep breath and wondering what the hell she’d agreed to. What if it was a gang rally? What if he was in a cult, and it was ‘bring a virgin to sacrifice’ night?

Turning to greet the boy she’d had a fairly violent conversation with earlier that day, Annabeth kept her expression passive. “Hi.”

Percy seemed displeased. “Don’t tell me that’s what you’re wearing.”

She was so _beyond_ done with his degrading remarks. Furiously, she unzipped the ugly jacket, which revealed her deep crimson top, and shoved it into his arms. Still glaring at him, she maneuvered the tie from her hair and left her curls to tumble down past her shoulders. “Satisfied?”

Something akin to pride shined in his eyes. “Hell yeah, I am.”

She closed her eyes and laughed, half out of relief, half due to his blatant reply. “Where are you taking me, Jackson?”

“Mom thinks we’re going to the movies,” he said with a shrug.

“That wasn’t the question.”

“Ask me no questions,” Percy said, starting the engine, “and I’ll tell you no lies.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes at him, jumping slightly at the volume of the radio as it cut on. He laughed at her then, which left her with crossed arms and glaring eyes that adamantly looked out the window.

Luckily, the radio was so loud that there wasn’t any forced conversation. It made her decide to treat this outing as business only, though she didn’t have a clue what she would have been looking at it in any other way. All she seemed to be was a cover for Percy’s late night shenanigans that his mother didn’t seem to approve of unless Annabeth was present, for whatever reason.

Drawing her eyes away from the window, she subtly surveyed his car, taking in the barely-there smell of cigarettes. It looked used, to say the least, which meant that the smell probably lingered from the previous owner. She stared at a necklace that hung from the rearview mirror—a simple one that ended with a small jar filled with sand and topped off with a cork. She’d never pegged Percy as a beach bum, but a quick glance in his direction let her soak up the details—tan skin, light freckles that were surely sunspots. It made her feel content to have figured out something about him without having asked.

About fifteen minutes into the ride, Percy turned the radio down maybe three notches and yelled, “When we get here, I gotta go through the back entrance. I’ll walk you to the front though, alright?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Where are we going?”

Percy, with the windows down and the radio up, looked something close to perfect when he grinned mischievously at her. (Annabeth mentally took a picture; of course she didn’t paint anymore, but it was a flawless shot that she couldn’t resist.) “We’re going to a concert.”

**\--**

“Excuse me,” Percy muttered over and over, keeping his head down and pushing through the crowd. Quite a few people said profanities back, but Annabeth followed his example and faced the ground, watching his heels to know where she was going. Once they reached the front of the line, she heard a, “Bruce, let her through, alright?” Glancing up, she saw a brute man nod once at Percy, then felt the boy’s hand on her upper back and his lips against her ear. It felt like too many sensations at once, since Annabeth was hardly used to anyone laying a finger on her.

“Take two rights and you’ll end up in an open room. There’ll be a stage, and probably a few people. Pick a table and stay there, I’ll find you after, okay?”

Before she had a chance to reply, Percy had disappeared into the crowd and Bruce nodded her inside. “Two rights,” she muttered to herself, taking them both with the utmost care, leaning around the corner and scoping it out before she walked on. Annabeth was starting to regret her lack of clothing as she entered the room he’d told her about. There were a few small of laughing people, some teens, some young adults, but they were all wearing dark colors and nearly everyone had dyed hair and a piercing or tattoo. It was occurring to her that she was painfully blonde and painfully out of place.

One group looked over at her and laughed like she was the joke of the century, but she saw drinks in their hands, which gave her hope that they were well smashed and no where near proper perception. Pushing her hair over to the opposite side of her head and squashing the OCD need to style her hair to neat curls, Annabeth hoped she appeared a little bit more ready for a party. It was almost frightening, the way she went from quiet and carefree to fretting over something as silly as appearing cool enough to be at a concert, _and_ what appeared to be a punk concert at that. Picking a table, following his orders for lack of any better ideas, she watched as equipment was slowly brought onto the stage and tested by some team that appeared to know the technical side of it all.

It wasn’t until all of the equipment was fully set up that Annabeth realized a hoard of people had entered the room. They seemed to be buzzing with excitement, which gave her the same rush. She’d never been to a concert before, and if her dad ever found out she’d gone to one at the _bar_... she’d be done for. There was a weird sense of rebellion and adrenaline that went along with everything she was experiencing right now. It was some side of Annabeth that had never gotten to show itself.

Again, there were too many sensations. Not sensations, maybe, but more of like there was so much going on and she desperately tried to take it all in, her mind working in overdrive. A man hiding the last few puffs off his cigarette over here, three excited teenagers there. Some woman was dancing at the front left of the room, which roused a bit of enthusiasm from the male species. The hearty laughter of a twenty-something year-old just a few steps ahead of her, the way the doors she’d entered through were shut with finality.

The crowd rose up in cheers, which made her eyes flicker to the stage. There were three guys spreading out across it, one heading for the drums, one jogging over to the keyboard, and one pulling a guitar strap across his shoulders. Her jaw almost hit the table when she recognized him and— _Percy_ _played guitar?_

He searched the crowd for a moment, catching her eye and winking. He mouthed something, ‘surprise’ Annabeth decided, and one last guy ran out on the stage, making the same group of teenage girls in the crowd scream loudly. She jumped slightly, and when she looked back to Percy he seemed to be laughing at her. “Good evening, Petaluma!” The crowd whooped and clapped, but the guy—the lead singer, Annabeth presumed—scrunched his nose up. “Damn, I wish the name of our town was catchier.” The audience laughed in appreciation, and she had to admit that the guy was good. He knew how to charm the crowd. “So, are you guys ready to party?”

When she could finally hear again, a few long seconds later, the guy said, “We’re The Handwriting, and the first thing we’re gonna play for you tonight is something this old chap over here wrote. It’s called ‘[I Forgive You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_1X1yPtkEw).'” He jerked his head towards Percy, which made Annabeth raise an eyebrow. She’d always assumed he was some bonehead who didn’t apply himself, in school or out of school. Standing corrected, she clapped with the rest of the people around her until the band started playing.

Oddly enough, she didn’t hate the music, a decision she made as she leaned a little heavier on the table. Usually, she could find fault with every song—poor lyrics, off-key, weird beat—but this, she liked. Few people were singing along, which let her know that Percy’s band wasn’t by any means _famous_ , but everyone seemed to be enjoying the music. They played more songs: [one catchy beat that seemed like more of a party starter](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k29e5yOfq8k), [one that reflected the sadness of a ballad within the loud beats](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eMqQqAo2EE). She even found herself nodding along and maybe enjoying herself a little by the time the band announced that the next song would be their last. “Now, we got Saving Just Two up next—not a bad band if I do say so myself—but you gotta admit that we kick ass.”

The crowd showed their agreement and all four boys on stage laughed. Percy stepped up to the microphone, jokingly shoving the lead singer out of the way and raising his hands in order to get some cheering. When the crowd complied, he laughed and waved them off. “Our last song tonight is something that all four of us wrote together. It means a lot to us. But before we sing it, I want everyone to appreciate that pretty blonde at the table in the left... excuse me, _right_ corner.” Close to everyone in the room turned to her, which made her freeze up for a moment before sheepishly waving at them. “She was my alibi for the night, and I might not have been able to make it here tonight without her amazing self. So, thank you, Annabeth Chase!”

Oh, God. She was blushing so hard. She could literally _feel_ the blood rushing to her cheeks and staying there to torture her. Percy stepped back from the mic and the lead singer took control again, glancing at Annabeth and raising an inquisitive eyebrow at his bandmate before shrugging animatedly toward the crowd. After the laughter and talk died down, he smiled at everyone. “This one’s called ‘[Maybe Tonight](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UWHkVlqY5qA)’.”

Avoiding Percy’s eyes adamantly, she strained to hear as the singer started speaking—in a tone that said he was saying something he’d uttered a million times, but it never lost it’s meaning. She could hear voices rising above his to yell the last four words: “And we are legendary.” As his voice faded out, the music faded in.

Annabeth loved the song. She loved the words, the beat, the meaning—all of it. She wondered why she hadn’t found such music before, the kind of music that gave you chills and left you with a sense of meaning or the feeling that someone understood. The fact that Percy’s band was already making such amazing music gave her the premonition that they’d be big. After the last notes of the song were played, the band said their goodbyes, gave out a website, and left the stage. A murmur spread throughout the crowd, mostly positive things, some things derogatory since most people wanted to see the main band that would be playing.

Deciding that she didn’t feel like waiting for Percy to find her like she was some sort of lost dog, Annabeth manuvered her way through the crowd and out the doors she’d entered through. Once she made it outside, the teenager peered around until she heard laughter and some semblance of human forms that weren’t inebriated. Heading towards the sound, she ended up in an alley, seeing the same lead singer from earlier taking a drag off a cigarette.

Percy intercepted before he could take another pull, squashing it beneath his foot. “Seriously, dude, you gotta stop that.” Smiling to lighten the mood, he clapped the singer’s shoulder. “Can’t have our best singer going out on us!”

“Hot blond, ahoy!”

She continued toward the group, shoving her hands in her back pockets simply to have something to do with them. Upon reaching them, she raised an eyebrow at the boy who’d spoke. “Rude,” she noted.

“Very rude,” Percy agreed, throwing his arm over Annabeth’s shoulder. She would have shoved him off, but the group seemed to have something like a performance high, too excited to really care about much at all. “How’d you like the show?”

“It was pretty good,” she allowed, not willing to let him know that she’d had fun.

The rest of the members seemed to take it as a giant compliment, giving their thanks, but Percy made a face at her. She made the same one back, haughtily flicking her hair out of her face and casually leaning against the wall to escape from his somewhat uncomfortable grasp. They continued to discuss some issues they’d had—this note was off, we should change it, let’s switch this song and that song, maybe we should play something different next time—and Annabeth found herself wondering if she’d be invited to the next concert. It seemed like an irrelevant thought, in fact, did she even _want_ to go to the next concert? She’d only hung around Percy a few times between coalitions of their families at dinners and some group projects.

“Annabeth?”

“Hm?”

Percy laughed a little. “Are you okay over there?”

“I’m fine,” she told him, raising an eyebrow. “Are _you_ okay over there?”

“This one’s very feisty,” the keyboarder told Percy.

“Shove off, Leo,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. Redirecting his gaze to his blond acquaintance, he asked, “Are you ready to leave?”

“I was ready to leave the second we got here.”

“Feisty!” Leo said with a clap.

“Yeah, we’re leaving. See you on Saturday, right guys?” Annabeth waited while they conversed about practice times, Percy complained about having to wake up so early which left it pushed back to noon.

She could hear another band playing inside, some [quick beat](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHu8mTamkwk) that surely had the audience dancing. The black-haired boy was smiling the whole way to his car, unable to come down from the adrenaline rush. “You’re in a band,” Annabeth stated unnecessarily as she settled in the passenger seat.

“It would seem so.” Percy laughed, turning the radio down a bit more, hoping that they could actually have a conversation. He’d always wanted to make nice with Annabeth, but it seemed the only way to do so started with a big fight. It took that much to get through her thick head and uptight personality. “Did you really enjoy the show?”

“I did,” she told him. “It was great, really. I liked all of the songs, which is really weird since I don’t usually care for music in general. I guess I was just listening to the wrong stuff.”

“I’ll have to give you some CDs, get you started on the good stuff,” Percy said, shaking his hair out a little. “God, that’s just one of the best feelings. I know everyone says it’s love, or sex, or whatever, but honest to God the best feeling I’ve come across is performing.”

“Tell me about it,” Annabeth said, not in the redundant way, but in the genuinely curious way.

Percy was silent for a few moments, his lips pressed in a line as he considered his words carefully. “It’s like... Well, for me, it’s just everything I’ve ever wanted,” he shared, turning onto the main road. “People actually enjoying what I give them, instead of all the disappointment. That probably doesn’t make sense to you, since you’re strangely perfect—”

“Am not,” Annabeth interrupted. Percy shot her a look and she dramatically flipped her hair and put on a girly voice. “Well, maybe a little.” His excitement was contagious; it had her personality completed a 360-turn.

He laughed, smiling at her with crinkled eyes and— _Jesus Christ_ —two dimples. “What I mean is, all throughout life, I’ll give things to people. I’d give things to my stepdad and it’d never be what he wanted. I give things to my teachers they’re disappointed with my grades. And teenagers are insatiable creatures. _Nothing_ is ever good enough for them. It’s just nice to be able and make something that people like, you know?”

Annabeth didn’t know, not really, since the limit of her talent was finishing a pop quiz first, but she nodded. “I’m sure it’s all very rewarding.”

“It is,” Percy told her. “I’m mad I didn’t get into it earlier. We just started the band around two years ago, but it was more of a thing to do when we were bored at first. Now it’s our life.”

“Who came up with the name?”

“Nico.” It occurred to her that he’d been there the whole time, sitting quietly on the rickety stool outside the back door of the bar. “He’s been a good drummer, even though he’s younger than all of us.”

“And you write the songs,” Annabeth continued.

He shrugged modestly. “Some.”

“‘I Forgive You’ was pretty good. I get the feeling you write songs a lot,” she hinted.

“Okay, so it’s one of those things I’m pretty okay at,” Percy allowed. “I wrote that song when I was pissed at my ex. Guess I should get pissed off more often?”

“Everyone has their own source of inspiration.” She felt the conversation lull and refused for the air to get uncomfortable. “Show me some of this ‘good music’ you speak of?”

He smiled, pulling a CD off of a sleeve on his visor and sliding it in. “This is [All Time Low](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFVmlp60oJ0)!” Percy shouted over the music. “They’re pretty good.” She nodded in response, listening to the music and deciding that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as she originally thought. They’d managed to have a full conversation without yelling, which wasn’t really that big of a deal since they hadn’t had too many conversations. It was cool to see the other side of the story, this side of the social pyramid. She wasn’t sure what she liked better now: her safe, comfortable studying or the adrenaline of crowds and music so loud her ears would be ringing for days.

There was something about the way she already loved this life so much that made her feel like she should have been living it all along. If she’d made friends with Percy earlier, she could have, too. Maybe then he wouldn’t have had to ask her to be his alibi, she already would have been.

By the time he pulled up to his home, removing the key from the ignition, Annabeth had already decided what she’d say in parting. However, his next words completely threw her off.

“We’ll have to do that again, Annabeth,” Percy said genuinely. “I’m starting to wish I had an extra ticket to Warped so I could drag you with me.” He sent her a smile. “You aren’t as bad as I thought you were going to be.”

“How did you think I was going to act?” she questioned, fearing the answer.

“Like a grandmother at a rock concert.” The image made both of them laugh, and Percy started pulling CDs out of the disc holder on his visor. “I’ll let you borrow a few of these CDs I made, and you let me know what you end up liking. I’ll make you more, if you want.”

“You saint,” Annabeth said, aghast.

He rolled his eyes. “Just because my music is loud doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.”

“You do realize that you literally yelled at me until I agreed to go with you tonight, right?”

Percy smiled softly, petting the dash of his car absentmindedly. “It got you to come along, did it not?”

“Peer pressure!” Annabeth accused. “I should put you in the Bully Box.” He laughed, and Annabeth smiled. The ‘Bully Box’ was this completely awful idea created by her school in order to stop cases of bullying. If anyone was verbally or physically abusing you, you were supposed to write their name on a sheet of paper and slip it in there. From what she knew, they’d only gotten bogus answers of much-hated people or random things such as ‘peas’ or ‘the movie Being John Malkovich’.

Percy turned to her again, nodding to himself. “This was fun though. Definitely a lot better than I thought.”

“Thanks, I think.” Placing her hand on the door, she said, “So, I’ll see you later?”

“Hopefully,” he muttered, his eyes still having that shine and his voice still holding the same honest tone. “Take care of my CDs!”

“Will do,” Annabeth answered drily, walking around the front of his car and into the next yard over—her yard. She knew that her dad would be asleep or knee deep in books by now, so she didn’t bother to let him know that she was home with a hearty shout. Instead, she jogged up the stairs and placed the CDs carefully on her desk, took a quick shower, and popped the first one into her radio.

Falling asleep to music warranted her the best sleep she’d gotten in months; with black and gold and red flashing before her eyes as she absentmindedly painted the concert world behind her eyelids.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention.

Annabeth was in the worst position of all time.

Sally had just called her saying that she would be at the library in twenty minutes to bring her and Percy some lunch on their all-day study rendezvous. The problem: neither Percy nor Annabeth were at the library, and it was very unlikely that she could get ahold of him and drag him to the library in _twenty minutes_.

She was in danger of losing Sally's trust and Percy's friendship, regardless of how small it was. She had never regretted not asking for his number more in her life. She drove past every place she’d heard about him and his gang hitting up, but it was a fruitless search. At this point, Annabeth only had ten minutes left to get to the library and create some masterpiece explanation for his absence. It was her best bet.

By the time she sprinted through the automatic doors and into near-silence, Annabeth was determined to make sure they weren't caught in a lie. It wasn't for Percy, too. It was her own little race against the clock—the true test of whether or not she could pull the deal two Saturdays away. Sally was either scouring the aisles for two teens this very moment or she would be in less than two minutes.

The determined blond, moving with speed as her time ticked away, chose a table and tossed her bag down. She began piling random books on, almost taking out a Judy Blume book that had ended up in the mix, but instead decided that she didn't have enough time. Smiling politely at the confused library worker, Annabeth pulled two encyclopedias off the shelf and placed them both on Percy's side, one opened and one closed. "Look eager, but not too eager to learn," she muttered to herself, inwardly sighing at the odd look she got from the same worker. She extracted her math book from her satchel and turned to the first page that looked good, adjusting her chair and Percy's chair to make it look as though he had been previously occupying it. Two strategically placed pencils and one page of old notes later, she was pretty sure she'd pulled off the look. Now it was a test of her acting skills.

Vowing to herself that she would get the damned boy's number the next second she saw him, Annabeth leaned closer to her book and pretended to skim her notes.

She prepared stories to convince the woman. Worst case scenario, Annabeth decided that she wouldn't hesitate to throw him under the bus. After all, it was his fault that they were having to fake study dates in the first place. She knocked herself back into the issue at hand: where was he? _Percy went to look for a different textbook, I have no clue where he is or how long he’ll be. He also mentioned something about having to use the bathroom? Could be there._

“Annabeth!” 

Her head snapped up. “Hey, Sally! How are you?”

“I’m well,” the mother said with a smile. “You two look like you've been studying hard! Where’s Percy?”

Annabeth recited the alibi with a shrug. “I’ll let him know that you brought us this generous lunch, though! Anything else you want me to tell him?”

“Oh, I’ve still got some time! I can wait for him, if that’s alright?”

Gritting her teeth, the blond nodded. “I mean, I _guess_ so...”

“Or am I interrupting? I’m so sorry! Excuse me; I’m just ol’ Mom over here. I never know when I’m getting in the way of teenage shenanigans.” Annabeth felt a pang of guilt for having ever started lying to Sally for a near stranger. She was such a genuinely good woman that she didn't have to show disappointment in you—you felt it all on your own.

“Percy and I just really need to talk about a few things. _Teenager_ things," Annabeth fibbed. "But that'll come later. He's been really good today, very in-the-zone and hardly dawdling at all. I'd hate to ruin that streak." She said the excuses with confidence, but they were paper thin lies.

Sally looked concerned. “Did something bad happen the other night? Or is this 'teenager' stuff all study-related?”

“Mostly study related, some other things too, but mostly things about the books." She tapped her pencil on one of the stacks. "You know, like next session, where, how he's planning on making it up to me..." She trailed off. How _was_ he planning on making it up to her?

“Ah,” the woman said with a nod. “As I figured.”

“You seem disappointed,” Annabeth noted before she could stop herself. She ground her teeth after in anger; this meant the conversation would be even longer. She never had been able to hold her tongue after something prodded her curiosity.

“Percy’s just been a lot happier lately,” Sally mentioned lightly. “Much more like my old son—coming home and talking with me before disappearing into his room, not eating at the speed of light only to disappear again. I was wondering if it was because of something that had happened between you two, but you know me. Never one to pry too hard.”

Annabeth inhaled deeply so as to prevent an unjustified reaction and felt her cheeks warm at what Sally had implied. _Tan skin, don’t fail me now._ “We’re just friends, Ms. Jackson.”

“Never thought that you weren't, but you can’t blame an old woman for hoping, right? It’d be so great if Percy fell in love with such a sweet, honest, smart girl like you. You’re a great influence.”

"Thank you," the teen replied. "It's awfully nice of you to say, but regardless, I don't think I'm your son's type."

Sally scoffed. "As if my son has a type. If only you could see his dating history." She smiled at Annabeth. "That's another day's gossip. I'd hate for him to come back in the middle of me listing his ex-girlfriends—not that I would. You should ask him about it if you're curious. You two are probably so close now that he wouldn't hesitate." The woman paused, scowling for a second, then digging through her purse for something.

When she apologetically announced that it was a family member calling, Annabeth nearly died of relief. Sally gave her a quick hug, answering the call in a hushed voice, and left their lunch on the table. The teenager waited ten whole minutes before gathering her belongings and sheepishly leaving the books on the table. The library often preached that they would place the books on the correct shelf to avoid a disorganized place, but it didn't stop her from feeling bad.

Annabeth had been able to lie her way through this go around, but it would be the last time she would save Percy's ass single-handedly. Clenching her jaw, she slammed the car into drive and sped out of the parking lot. She would find him today. And when she did, she would shout at him until her lungs gave out. Did he have _any_ clue how much pressure she'd just been under? How _awful_ she felt about lying to the only mother figure in her life?

When she saw his blue, sporty Neon outside of the most popular gas station in Petaluma, Annabeth felt some sort of sick satisfaction. The anger took over when she saw him bobbing his head to music in his car and holding a cigarette. _He_ is _a smoker_ , she acknowledged silently.

She stalked around the back of his car, snatching the cigarette out of his hand before he could react. “Hey, man, what the _fuck_?” Percy, in all of his teenage angst, leaned out the window. Once he realized it was Annabeth, he ducked back inside and fell heavily back against the seat. “What do you want?”

“I was thinking that _maybe_ you’d be a little more grateful, seeing as I just saved your ass _twice_ ,” she mentioned, her voice rising a little. “Your mom almost _found out_ , you idiot! And don’t smoke cigarettes, much less at the gas station every person in town goes to!” She felt like she could hit him. He was so, so reckless, in the most dangerous of ways because he simply didn't care.

“You don’t know me, Chase,” Percy near-growled. “So stop acting like you do.”

She snapped her fingers in front of his face and he looked up from the steering wheel with a certain furious expression. “I’m not! I’m just trying to tell you that we can’t be so lenient if you plan on this whole _dumb_ idea working out!”

“It’s off! Fucking _forget it_ , okay? The band is fucking done, and I don’t need you yelling at me _on top_ of that!”

Annabeth froze, her anger falling a few notches but her voice holding the same frustration. “What do you mean the band’s ‘done’?”

He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, watching the small bit of smoke curl up from it as the tobacco and paper burned. “Huge blow-up today. It’s not even fun anymore. We fight too often.” Percy flicked the cigarette to get rid of the ashes, which made her notice that he hadn’t taken a single drag off of it. “I don’t even smoke, by the way.” He looked up at her as though he was sharing a momentous secret, and, through her anger, she noticed that he had really nice eyelashes. They were the perfect curve; Annabeth thought it'd be a pleasure to sketch lashes that perfect. The fact that she’d noticed at all made her more angry. “But watching a cigarette burn calms me down for whatever reason.”

She noted that his voice didn't hold the same fury as it did previously. He just sounded exhausted. "It doesn't matter whether or not you smoke. Regardless, you could get in trouble for having one in your hand. You should go somewhere else and blow off steam.” The break up had to be temporary—just a few days ago, she’d seen them laughing like the old friends they were and making jokes. There was no way everything fell downhill that quickly, and if it did, it was mendable.

Percy scowled at the burning tobacco. She watched his eyes as they followed the rising smoke. “I came to the gas station because I can’t stand to be alone when I’m angry, or upset, or whatever I am. Usually, watching other people and seeing the way they carry on like nothing’s wrong helps me convince myself.”

She had to admit that it was a strange coping mechanism. Everyone she’d ever known holed themselves up in their rooms or went for a drive when they were shaking with fury or near tears. Everyone wanted to be alone and deal with their own emotions, but not Percy. He would rather be given proof that his feelings were inferior than deal with them, it seemed. It was sad and deleterious, but she could see why he did it. In fact, all she could think was 'that's him. that's exactly how he is.' Still, it wasn’t safe for him to have cigarettes in his possession, especially at the gas station every cop in town checked for minors. “You should go home,” she suggested. The fact that she hadn’t got to finish her ‘bitching out’ was a little upsetting, but Percy getting arrested was a bigger issue.

He sighed loudly. “Mom’s not home. Probably smell like smoke, too.”

Annabeth was losing patience. “Then go to a park! Take a walk in the woods! But stop doing _stupid_ things!”

Instead of yelling back, Percy just laughed, deadly calm. It was almost worse. “That’s the same thing Axe said to me before he walked out of the garage and told us that he quit.”

 _Axe_ , she noted. _Had to be the lead singer_. With a sigh, she pushed her bangs out of her eyes and said three words: “Unlock the doors.”

He followed directions, whether out of exhaustion or slight fear of her, she would never know. Annabeth went to the left side, settling in the passenger seat. “Start driving. You’ll get arrested if we stay any longer.” _And now you won’t be alone_ , she added silently. Somehow, it seemed like Percy heard that part, too.

He drove down the main road for a while with the windows down and the radio loud enough to be heard over the wind. Annabeth was starting to think maybe he’d managed to chill out and clear his head, but right when the thought crossed her mind, he turned onto a side road and pulled over, slamming his fist into the steering wheel several times.

Panicking a little, she turned the radio off and tried to intercept his hand. He stopped himself just before he would have hit her, his arm stuttering three times before he instead pressed her hand against the steering wheel underneath his. While she was glad that he’d stopped with the violence, she could tell that he wasn’t done being angry. Staggered breaths let her know that he was trying his hardest to get it under control (and ultimately failing). “It was all I had!” he yelled, nearly breaking her hand with the pressure he put on it.

Annabeth shook her head. “Percy,” she said, in the most mitigating voice she could manage, “it’s not all you had. You have your mom, your friends—”

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied, calmer, contained, but with an undercurrent of a lividity. The way he made himself appear calm was frightening to Annabeth in a way she couldn’t describe. Sure, her family was full of passive people, but his mood swing from furious to tranquil was unnerving. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained. You have _everything_ , Annabeth.” His voice took on a pained tone. Even though she didn’t know him that well, her heart still wrenched at the sound. She knew that he didn’t use this tone often. “You’re smart and your family has money and you have all of these activities you’re in and important places you hold. The _only_ thing I had was the band. That was the only way I could ever get anywhere.”

“College—”

“It’s too fucking expensive!” Percy shouted, hitting the driver’s side door. She was concerned about the way he kept beating his hands up; at that rate, he’d never play guitar again. “I’m not doing that to my mom! She can hardly afford school for me right now, and it’s not like I’m smart enough for a fucking scholarship!” He laughed, harsh and self-deteriorating. “I can’t even read a paragraph without feeling like I’m dying.”

Annabeth could see him becoming more enraged by the second. His cheeks flushed, his body tensed—these were all the signs she’d learned from her psychology class. Frantically, she picked through her brain in hopes to find a way to assuage the madness, but she didn’t even know Percy’s favorite color. How was she supposed to know the best way to calm him down from this explosion of anger that hadn’t seemed to lessen at all within the past few minutes?

“I don’t have everything,” she said after a moment. “It’s not all black and white like that and you know it.”

“But you have so much! You have everything _I_ want, Annabeth! Do you know how it feels to get Cs all the time? To have to come home to your mom and tell her that you failed _another_ test?”

“I don’t know how that feels!” Annabeth snapped. “But did you ever think about the fact that I had to _work_ for my intelligence? I went to sessions for _years_!”

“And why would you need that?” he questioned, sarcastic undertone and all.

“Because, you _asshole_ , I had severe dyslexia,” she ground out, ripping her hand out from underneath his and heavily falling back in her seat. “You never know when to stop, do you? Never know when to cut back the attitude and maybe listen to someone for once. Here I was, trying to help _you_ , trying to calm _you_ down and you can’t even share enough respect to stop telling me how _my_ life is? Everyone has problems, and just because yours are worse that doesn’t mean that—”

Percy put his hand over her mouth, which made Annabeth realize that she’d gotten just as angry as he had. He seemed to be breathing much more close to evenly—a relief in itself—but now his expression was unreadable. She shoved his hand away and felt mildly satisfied when it hit the dashboard. “Annabeth, listen—”

“Like you haven’t been?”

“No, I’m serious—”

“Yeah, me too.”

“For God’s _sake_ , shut the fuck up! You don’t have to prove to me that you’re tough! I know you are!” His words, though they were said with a bit more anger than she would have liked, made her clench her teeth and stare at him expectantly. “First of all, I don’t think my problems are above others. _But_ ”—his voice rose a little—”as you can see, I’m in an exceptionally shitty position at the moment. And secondly... I have that, too.”

His cheeks flushed again, but not from anger. She could tell by his demeanor. Percy was _embarrassed_. “You have what?”

“Dyslexia,” he mumbled, after a moment. “Apparently one of the most severe cases my doctor’s ever seen. He pretty much told me that any kind of therapy or extra schooling wouldn’t have an affect.”

“Oh,” Annabeth said quietly, after a moment. She saw him nod out of her peripheral vision.

A few beats of silence, then, “Was I really being that much of an asshole?”

She huffed, pressing her bangs behind her ear. “You were. I was just trying to help.”

“I’m better now, so I guess you did.” Annabeth nodded without a word, staring out the window and feeling tears prick at her eyes. Her learning disability had always been a soft spot for her, as well as any talk about moms or mothers. Percy thought she had everything, but where was her loving mother? Where was her tight knit group of friends who were hardly ever seen anywhere without the others? Where did her passions lie? For a while, it had been art. Now art was more pain than expression. Above all of her chagrin towards the lack of _meaning_ in her life, she refused to cry. Especially in front of someone who could use it against her later. “Thanks,” he added, in the softest tone she’d ever heard from Percy.

“Next time I’ll just light you a cigarette,” she said bitterly, still feeling the annoyance of the argument. “Maybe then I could stop my hand from being violently crushed.”

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered. He turned to her and leaned closer. “Let me see it.”

“It’s fine, seriously, just me making a point,” she let out quickly, maybe in an attempt to get him further away from her—he was breathing down her neck; his breath his her ear; she inhaled deeply to steady herself—or possibly trying to reinstate her strength. She didn’t need a boy—and at that, a boy who had been exceptionally dick-ish in the past twenty minutes—to help her with an injured hand.

Percy simply reached over and plucked her left hand up, holding it daintily and examining it. Annabeth looked over at him with a slight scowl before looking at their hands; Percy’s just two shades darker and much larger. The way the light hit them was a picture perfect moment—the light shining through the windows contrasted the deep shades of tan their hands were. “Nothing’s broken, obviously. You’d be feeling that a lot more.” He bit his lip when he saw a red mark that would surely turn into a bruise. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not,” he said, deadly serious. He looked up and she met his gaze, seeing pure fear swimming in his eyes, the ones that couldn’t decide whether they were blue or green. Annabeth tried to communicate that she didn’t understand why it was such a momentous occurrence. After all, it could have been worst. It wasn’t the first nor the last time she would have a bruise.

“I’m not going to file a report against you or anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” Annabeth told him, wondering if he was on probation. Maybe he wasn’t in a gang like she originally conspired, but he could still be a juvenile delinquent.

He was quiet for a moment, still holding her gaze. The moment was starting to feel a lot more intense than she would have liked, so she looked out the window and focused her attention on a falling leaf. It swirled through the air, riding a current, landing right next to a bird that skipped away in shock. “I’m not worried about you reporting me.” She could feel him looking over her hand again, almost in an obsessive way, as though he needed to convince himself that he hadn’t hurt her.

She pulled her hand back, starting to get frustrated. “Dude, I’m fine. Stop freaking out.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, facing forward again. “Alright. I’m done.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, developing a plan of action in her mind. She was already relaying it to him before she could think twice about it. “Now, you’re going to take me back to the gas station and let me get my car. Then, you’re going to thank me again and leave. You’ll find out where Axe and the other guys are, and you’ll tell them that you’re done arguing if they are. You’ll let them know that you aren’t willing to give up on something you guys love just because of something as trivial as fighting. You won’t say anything provocative; something that’ll surely start a fight. Be reasonable. If one of you is reasonable, the others will start acting in the same way. You’ll work things out, because you don’t have another choice. Then you’ll plan another practice and go home to your mom and tell her that you love her. Understand?”

Percy had that look in his eyes again, the same one he’d had at school when she told him the plan for his mother’s birthday and their Warped Tour event. He looked proud, fond; something that made his eyes shine a little and his mouth quirk up at the corner. It was a nice look on him. He nodded, belatedly, smiling at her.

Then he followed her directions, thanking her again before pulling out of the gas station and hopefully leaving to find the other three members of the band and work things out.

Annabeth briefly noted that this was the _second_ time something with a good ending had started with an argument, but everyone had their methods to madness. They were a little different, though. Their method was to just keep adding more and more madness until it eventually all canceled out and left them with something that made them closer as friends. While she hadn’t completed either of her original tasks—make Percy understand how much pressure she’s under for him and get his number—she felt oddly reassured. Oddly content.

 _Do you know how it feels to have to come home to your mom and tell her that you failed_ another _test?_ were the words that kept ringing in her head, all throughout the ride home and even as she walked through the door. They echoed, bouncing between her ears as she studied for an AP exam. And all she could think of is the fact that she didn’t know how it felt. She didn’t know how it felt to tell her mom that she got a grade, period, regardless of if it was good or bad. Her father did look at her report cards, he gave her a pat on the back when she made excellent grades on tests and projects, but Annabeth couldn’t help but wonder what her mom would think.

Would she be disgraced at the A-minus on her William Shakespeare report? Or would she be so excited that she made her daughter’s favorite dinner along with cheesecake? Would she encourage Annabeth to try harder, or would she tell her that she was doing amazing and deserved to take a resting day?

Annabeth had long stopped dreaming of her mother. Ever since the eighth grade, she refused to let herself dwell on someone who didn’t have a part in her life. Someone who never _did_ have a part in her life. The curiosity had never disappeared, though. Who _was_ Annabeth’s mother? Was she sweet, was she cruel, was she pretty? What was her favorite genre of music, if she liked it at all?

While Annabeth did know a few facts (her mother’s favorite book was Walden by Henry David Thoreau, she loved all forms and practices of art, she was studious and grey-eyed), there was still a vacancy where the teenager needed to _know_ her mother. She never had the luxury of braided pigtails in kindergarten or advice about boys from a woman’s point of view. There was always Sally, of course, but it was different.

Her father always told her how much she was like her mother—an appreciator of the arts, a lover of books, a studying enthusiast—but Annabeth wish she knew that herself. She wished that she could walk down the hallway and lean into her father’s bedroom and see her mother poised on the bed with a book in her lap and reading glasses on her nose, and think _yeah, I’m just like her_.

Annabeth wandered out of her room, looking down the hall to see the wooden double doors that lead to her dad’s study. Taking a deep breath, she started towards them. _Just one more story about Mom. I know I said I was past it, Dad, but just one more._ Her hand ghosted over the doorknob when she stood before the doors, so much smaller than they’d been when she was eight. She could clearly remember her bad dreams, the nightmares that she couldn’t remember anymore. She remembered waddling up to the door and wanting to go in so bad, but feeling the distinct fear that her father didn’t want her there. That he’d be upset with her for interrupting his studies. She _still_ felt that fear.

Backing away from the door, Annabeth went to the kitchen and gulped a glass of water. Then she walked back up the stairs, fell onto her bed, and turned the lamp off. It was eight at night, but she’d never felt more mentally and physically tired.

She dreamt of her mother and something about Percy’s band, but by the time she was awake enough to read into the occurrences of the dream, the details had fled from her conscious until all she could remember was eyes too green and a smile too bright to be fair.

**\--**

“Another note from Percy,” Sally sang, dropping the folded up sheet of notebook paper in Annabeth’s hand. The blond had to force herself to unfold it at a normal speed;  for some reason she felt eager, like he would be saying something important.

 

> _I’m warning you in advance. Mom said that she wanted to have another “neighbor dinner” thing and invite you and your dad over._
> 
> _But, also, I wanted to thank you again. The Handwriting is back and we’ve worked (mostly) everything out._
> 
> _By the way, since Mom keeps bothering me about these letters, I wrote my number at the bottom. Maybe we can stop another issue like the other day from happening._

Annabeth’s eyes skimmed down to the bottom to of the hand-written note where ten digits were messily scrawled.

“Oooh, what is it this time?” Sally asked, soon after looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, dear, I really don’t mean to pry, but he’s being so secretive.”

“It’s because we’re talking about your birthday,” Annabeth stage-whispered. “And I’m not supposed to say a word to you, but now I am.”

Sally looked shocked. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh, right of course. I’m going to go... take care of inventory.” The older woman swiftly left the room, and the teenager smiled at her back, folding up the note and going to help Jessica, a middle-aged employee, with a heavy box.

When it came to closing time, Sally suggested a coalition of families for a nice dinner, as promised. Annabeth agreed immediately, half because she felt like she needed to check on Percy and half because her father needed to get out of the house for a night. The dinner would be on Friday night, which was two short nights from the day Sally asked, and she was stunned to find herself wondering whether or not The Handwriting was playing a gig that night. She would’ve simply asked him at school, but thanks to their vast difference in academic interests and progression, they never crossed paths. Annabeth was always rushing off to her honors and advanced classes while Percy slouched off to his standard ones.

Vastly different with some common ground was a good way to describe herself and Percy. They both had cases of dyslexia and enjoyed the same music. Other than that, they didn’t seem to have a lot in common. But then again, they hadn’t exactly had friendship bonding time to discuss likes and dislikes. She and Percy had always been civil with each other, exchanging polite ‘how are yous’ if they ever ended up in front of one another. It was weird being ‘friends’ or whatever they were now; however, Annabeth thought it wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ weird. Not really a good weird either, though.

When she arrived home, her father’s study was entered without hesitation. She sat in the chair across from his desk and told him about the dinner, to which he agreed, a bit reluctantly. “So, we’ll just go over around six o’clock and have dinner with Ms. Jackson and Percy, chat for a while after, and then you can come back home and hole yourself up in here.”

Her father had the grace to look sheepish. “I think I’m getting somewhere with my research. It could be a scientific breakthrough. I promise as soon as I’m done with this, we’ll spend time together. Watch movies, anything you want, okay?”

It sounded amazing. Almost everything Annabeth wanted at the moment. Sadly, with science, there was never an ending to anything. He’d finish with one thing, but it would have a thread to another thing, which would lead him to another month of intense studying and nonstop research. Her dad’s work was infinite. “Sounds great,” she told him, faking a smile. “I made a pizza, it’s downstairs if you want to grab a slice or two. And you should; have you even been eating?”

Her father huffed indignantly. “Yes, Annabeth, I have been eating.” She smiled at his crossed arms and petulant expression. “But I’ll grab a slice to appease you.”

“Night, Dad,” Annabeth said, standing from the chair. “Don’t forget to drink some water, too.”

“Annabeth,” he said, stopping her from leaving. “I mean what I said about ‘us’ time. I know it doesn’t always work out, but I really would love to do that.”

“Me too, Dad.” She gave him another tight-lipped smile and slipped through the double doors, pursing her lips and closing her eyes in concentration. _No tears_ , she coached herself. _You don’t have a reason to cry anyways._

For once, she didn’t have the will to study. Annabeth placed one out of the seven CDs Percy had lent her into her radio, turned it up loud enough to expel thoughts, and closed her eyes. She focused on the feel of the music and the beats you had to listen hard for. She thought about the tone of the singers’ voices and how they must have been feeling when they wrote it. Rather than being a time waster, music was finally giving her something she needed desperately: escape. A vacation from the real world, where she couldn’t solve every problem—a fact that bothered her to no end.

 _What happened to painting?_ some part of her challenged. _Sketching? Finding the beauty in simple things?_ Annabeth closed her eyes tightly, yelling the words from the song into her mind after she heard them. Thoughts were too much.

She eventually passed out to the last few beats of a The Maine song—[one that reminded her that she was never alone in how she felt](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hdn8ZcVn-Ck).

**\--**

Annabeth was torn between running to the nearest phone or rolling her eyes. Percy had just called Sweet on America, telling her that it was _very urgent_ and that if she didn’t call him on her next break someone could possibly die. That led to the blond asking Sally for her break a whole hour early just so that she could call the boy who’d slowly inched his way into her very small circle of friends. It only had around four people, excluding his new addition, three girls called Piper, Thalia and Silena, along with one boy called Beckendorf. Silena was so in love with him that she nearly worshipped him, and Annabeth found herself eventually accepting the smitten guy as a friend.

Percy was a whirlwind of anger and music and loud laughter with bright smiles, but he was still there. And apparently, she decided as she read his number from the note and dialed it, he wasn’t going away anytime soon.

When he picked up, he seemed to already know it was Annabeth. “Look, we have a problem.”

“Tell me about it.”

“We just booked a gig for Friday. It’s at a party two hours away and they want us to be there before nine-thirty. The party starts at ten.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “But the dinner...”

“I know,” Percy breathed, distressed. “I know it’s not your problem, but I called you because you do this thing where you just figure things out, and I _really_ need that right now.”

Annabeth was quiet for a few moments, weighing the possible ways that they could cancel or cut the dinner short. She’d talked about it to her dad so much that even he was a little excited at this point, so the last thing she wanted to do was call it off. “Two hours away?” Percy hummed in agreement. “That means you have to leave by 7:15, 7:20 at the latest. And the dinner starts at six...”

“My mom _hates_ rushing dinner. That’s one thing that she believes should be enjoyed and dragged on for years,” he informed her. “That’s why I’m having such an issue. We _could_ be done by 6:30, but Mom won’t stand for that.”

“Unless you have a reason as to why you have to skip out early,” Annabeth commented, scuffing her shoe on the sidewalk. "Well, if this party starts that late, it could be 3 AM before it's over. You'll need to have a reason for being out all night. And you guys shouldn't be driving that late anyways—"

"Breathe, Annabeth," he told her with a laugh. "They booked a cheap hotel for us to stay overnight in."

"Okay, so what you _really_ need is an excuse to stay the night somewhere," she clarified. He voiced his agreement. "Don’t worry about the length of the dinner, I’ll personally make sure that you leave by seven. Why don't you just tell her that you're having a guys' night out with Nico or Axe?"

She heard silence on the other side of the line before a disbelieving chuckle. "I wish you knew how stupid I felt right now."

Annabeth smiled. "Probably as stupid as you actually are."

"Rude."

"Honest."

A pause. Then, "Thanks."

"Welcome."

She heard Percy laugh through the line, and she saw his eyes when she blinked; a clear picture behind her lids of the watercolor irises and black, carefully painted eyelashes. "Bye?"

"Bye." Annabeth dropped the call and stared at the barber shop across the road for a full minute before she realized that a smile on her face and it didn’t seem to be leaving. Bringing her face down a few notches, to a natural expression, she saved Percy's number in her phone. With ten more minutes left to spare, she decided to walk down the street and buy teas for Sally and herself.

The thought of Percy having a guys night out made her think. When was the last time she'd gone to a movie with Piper or tagged along with Silena to the mall? When was the last time she'd gone to one of Reyna's lacrosse games and cheered her on? The past few months, Annabeth had been just as bad as her father; she'd hardly had a full conversation with the people closest to her.

By the time she was handing a piping hot tea over to Sally, she'd already made the decision to plan something with her friends that weekend. She needed to get out of the house just as bad as her father.

"What was wrong with Percy? He sounded so urgent when he called earlier," Sally mentioned. There was no one in the shop, leaving them with some downtime. They both leaned against the counter and the older woman handed the teen a bag of candy to pick a sweet from.

"Just needed me to tell him something that he could have thought of on his own," Annabeth answered vaguely but honestly, plucking a peppermint with green stripes out of the bag.

Ms. Jackson smiled. "Sounds about like Percy. He's so absent-minded sometimes, I swear he spends half his life asking people questions he already knew the answers to."

Annabeth popped the mint in her mouth, nodding in agreement. "I wouldn't doubt it."

"His attitude has improved so much lately," Sally said thoughtfully. "For a while, he'd been short with me; reserved—almost seemed angry with me. But ever since these study sessions with you, he's been so sweet to me, just like my old baby boy." It wasn’t the first time she’d heard this, but she got the sense that it meant a lot to Sally—so much that it was worth mentioning twice. Annabeth saw the woman's eyes shining and it warmed her heart to see how close they were. She, after a moment of consideration, decided that it would be impossible to capture her motherly glow in a drawing. Her and Dad would never be able to achieve that kind of propinquity. "I remember when I used to brag on you—my employee of the month _every_ month—and he always seemed so interested in what I said about you." The blond swallowed and averted her eyes, uncomfortable with the thought of his attention. "If you ask me," Sally continued, walking around the counter, "I'd say that Percy's wanted to know you for a while."

Annabeth didn't reply as the woman wandered off to perform some organization task, no doubt. The thought of his caring, or at least wondering, about her before he really knew her was oddly comforting. Almost like someone was looking out for her even if she wasn't looking out for herself. It was sweet, _almost_ enough to cancel out how weird it all made her feel.

Annabeth could remember not being able to fall asleep easily at night because she couldn't stop the curious thoughts of where Percy and his crew went. She'd toyed with thoughts of gangs and fight clubs, but now it all seemed so simple: he was in a band. It would explain the late night shows, and maybe practices, along with the midday disappearances Sally had mentioned. At first, she'd felt stalkerish, glancing through her window and being plagued with musings of where the mysterious Jackson boy snuck off to. But after awhile, she knew it was impossible for any human _not_ to wonder. Human nature was to be curious.

It was nice to know that the feelings of curiosity were returned in some way. But the thought of them both watching each other made her feel like it'd been a boxing match, both of them walking around the circle, waiting for the other to make the first move. And now that that first move had been made, the match was on. What was the match about, though?

"Annabeth? Can you, uh, help me real quick?"

She turned, recognizing the voice as her co-worker Grover. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Ms. Jackson told me to arrange this table and make it 'pretty' but I'm... a guy."

The blonde laughed lightly, leaving the counter unattended since they didn't have any current customers. "Just because you're a guy, doesn't mean you can't make things look nice."

Grover nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration as Annabeth situated candies around a few baskets for sale. "There's nothing to it. You just—"

"Annabeth, dearest, someone's here to see you."

Percy was her first thought. Piper or Silena was her second. However, her _father_ wasn't the third, fourth, or for that matter, the 50th guess she could muster. "What happened? Emergency?"

He smiled crookedly. "Oh, come on," her dad said, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not that much of a hermit." She blinked at him. "Okay, so I sent some of my research over to a lab in Kansas a few weeks ago and—"

"Dad!" Annabeth interrupted, her voice jumping somewhere around seven octaves. Her face flushed from embarrassment and the utter feeling of being disappointed. "You promised me this dinner. You promised."

"It's very important," he managed, stuttering a few times. "Dinners happen every night; scientific breakthroughs are once in a lifetime."

She grit her teeth and continued to arrange the table. Belatedly, she noticed that Sally and Grover had both wandered off to the far corner of the shop, allowing them privacy. "We have plans, Dad."

"I know, I know," he told her, his eyes pleading. "I'm talking to Sally about rescheduling—"

"No," Annabeth said, her voice cracking. Her eyes were doing that ridiculous thing where they stung. "Dad, think about it. If you have to reschedule a dinner with our neighbor, a one, _maybe_ two hour ordeal, how long will our 'father-daughter' time get put off?” He blinked, his eyes cast downward, and Annabeth wondered when she’d became the parent and he’d turned into a child. A thoughtless child who acted without concern of others’ emotions. “ I'll keep my promise. I'll have dinner with Sally and Percy."

Her father looked just as upset as she felt, but the sympathy wasn't there. It wasn't the first time she'd been pushed aside for a 'scientific breakthrough' and it surely wouldn't be the last. “Annabeth, you know I would be there if I could.”

“You could,” she deadpanned. “You know you could.” He stepped forward, mouth open and face tense, either ready to discipline her or explain the situation further. Annabeth shook her head. “Dad, I gotta get back to work. Go on your work trip. I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Annabeth—”

Her eyes started burning again, and this time she knew the reason. How many times would her father blow her off; making her feel unimportant and small? How many times would he make a promise he intended to keep, only to have work change the course of things? She pushed it out of her mind, smiling at Sally in the inventory room and picking up a mindless task. Her and her father would work it out. They always did. It was a constant cycle of Annabeth feeling abandoned, her dad feeling awful, Annabeth getting over it, and her dad doing the same thing once more, as though he expected a new result. It was an exasperating thing to live through over and over. Something that made her glad she had a college fund waiting for her. Something that made her glad she was a little over a year away from eighteen.

That night, Annabeth came home to an empty house and an apologetic note. Her father had left her two hundred dollars and told her that he’d be back in five days. She could use however much she wanted for whatever she desired. It felt like a payoff.

The next night, luckily, wasn’t as sour. Sally had prepared a wonderful meal of spaghetti and garlic bread—Annabeth’s all-time favorite. She didn’t remember ever saying it to the older woman, but it was a relief to feel like someone out there knew her. It appeared that her very own father didn’t understand that she hated to be alone and wished for a strong father-daughter relationship more than anything. After all, Annabeth simply didn’t want to end up like Thalia and _her_ father, arguing every time they were within 200 feet of each other.

Annabeth’s family, as far as the ancestry went back, was full of passive people. Some households hashed it out and yelled to work through things, while her family simply avoided each other and employed the silent treatment as the best way to let someone know you weren’t happy with them.

But the Jackson family—they were a different story. Percy would kiss his mother on the cheek when coming and going from the house. He would hug her for no reason. They had _inside jokes_. They had a method to the madness and they moved around each other as if they were so accustomed to the other’s actions that the two of them didn’t even have to think about it. She could remember Sally sadly telling Annabeth about the large trench that had formed between her and her son, but the blond couldn’t see any faults. They seemed so happy, so in sync, that she almost felt embarrassed of her family.

“It’s a shame your father couldn’t make it tonight,” Sally mentioned in a remorseful tone, using a pair of tongs to place garlic bread on the guest’s plate. Percy reached on the flat baking pan and scooped up three, to which his mother only responded with a sigh and a slight shove to his head.

“Some work thing,” Annabeth shared with a shrug. “Can’t pull him away from his work for anything.”

“Sounds like Percy and his bed,” Sally mumbled, sending the blond girl a small wink.

Percy, speaking through a mouthful, gave an indignant reply that was drowned out as the two females laughed at his expression. “I’m not _that_ bad,” he argued.

They all ate in silence for a few minutes, devouring the majority of their meals until they reached the point in which they picked at the food and carried on a conversation. Well, besides Percy, who was eating with zeal.

Annabeth looked at him then, the first time she’d actually looked at him since she'd arrived at the Jackson residence. He seemed fine—which made her rest easy—but she wondered if he was truly okay. How had he managed to work things out with the band?

He put his fork down to take a sip of his drink—home-brewed tea, the best Annabeth'd had in ages—and he subtly glanced down to her hand that was holding her fork. She was distracted as she answered one of his mother's questions, which gave him more time to examine the bruise on her hand.

His expression twisted as he saw the light purple, half yellow bruise that overpowered her golden skin. _I bruised someone_ , he thought, letting the words sink in. _I bruised a girl, on top of that._

"Percy, are you alright?"

His mother's voice pulled him out of his reverie, which in turn made Annabeth notice that he'd been inspecting her hand again. "Mom," he said easily, "can Annabeth and I be excused for a moment?"

The blond's eyes widened, glancing at Sally apologetically. "Is that really—?"

"Please," Percy added.

Sally raised an eyebrow, nodding. “Don't mind me, I'll just go get another glass of tea. I hope you enjoyed dinner, both of you."

They shared affirmative answers, and Sally slipped out of the room as Percy quickly leaned over to pull her hand closer to him so that he could fret over the meaningless bruise on her hand. Before the stream of questions and worries she knew were coming, all she asked was, "Why is my hand bothering you so much?"

He paused, opening and closing his mouth a few times before that same hurt look rested in his eyes once more. "It's a long story."

"Well, condense it," Annabeth said, almost feeling annoyed at his obnoxious reactions.

"It's like—a big deal," he decided, balling up his napkin in his hand and continuing to clench his fist. "My old stepdad... he used to do some things."

"Like...?" Annabeth prompted, her heart sinking at his tone. The dining room was dimly lit, making Percy’s dark expression even darker.

She watched Percy's jaw clench; watched his knuckles go white. "Like hit my mom," he ground out. "And I just—I just promised myself that I would never be like him and I would never leave a bruise on anyone's body unless they deserved it and even then, I would probably hesitate... but I hurt you and it's making me feel like—"

"Stop," Annabeth said simply, her heart squeezing in sympathy for the boy in front of her. He glanced up, almost shy, and she pursed her lips at him. She was almost excited, though, near giddy at uncovering more of the Percy Jackson Mystery. "You didn't hit me."

He seemed almost pained when he shook his head, reaching out hesitantly to pick up her hand. And maybe it was the way she'd learned a significant secret, maybe it was the way he held her like glass, but there was something oddly endearing about the action. She couldn't even muster a bit of anger as he stared at the barely there bruise on her hand, the one that hurt so little that she'd completely forgot about it. "I didn't hit you," he said, holding her fingers and running his thumb over her knuckles. It made her blush, and she felt stupid. More stupid than she'd felt in a while, since he obviously meant it in an apologetic manner. "But there's still a bruise. And I still blame myself, and I probably won't stop bothering you until it disappears and maybe even after. So suck it up and accept the fact that I'm worried, _Chase._ "

He said her name in an odd tone, almost as if he were trying to lighten the weight of what he said. Regardless, her heart still jumped pathetically when he squeezed her fingertips and released her hardly injured hand. She had to bite the inside of her cheek when he caught her eyes and smiled softly, secretly, before telling his mother that they were all done and it was safe to return.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention.

The sound of rocks bouncing off windows wasn’t a new noise to Annabeth. However, the thud of a rock bouncing off _her_ window, loud enough to be heard over the flipping of pages, was new.

She frowned a little, tossing her pencil to rest between the pages of her textbook, and moved towards the window. Shoving the curtains aside, Annabeth peered downwards, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. She wasn’t positive what she had been expecting—a confused bird? A rogue kid?—but Percy Jackson hadn’t been at the top of the list. He was clad in jeans and a hoodie, which was an oddity in itself. He looked like a different person without his intrinsic band shirt and leather jacket. In fact, Percy appeared _normal_ —something that she assumed wasn’t in his everyday vocabulary. He was anything but.

Sliding the window open, and thanking whatever window god there was that she’d been blessed with one that didn’t screech with the deafening sound of metal on metal, Annabeth leaned out. For a moment, she just stared expectantly at the boy who was staring at his feet, which were scuffing the ground absently. “Can I help you at this fine hour? Past midnight, if you didn’t notice,” she continued in a saccharine tone, finally getting him to look up at her. “It’s not like I wasn’t _sleeping_ or anything.”

“You weren’t,” Percy said simply, pulling his hood over his head. “I saw the light on. Hence, the rock-throwing.”

Instead of a reply, Annabeth scowled. “What do you want?”

“For you to let down your hair. Rapunzel, Rapunzel...” He trailed off and cleared his throat as her expression became more and more unamused. “Uh, sorry.” Scratching the back of his neck, she could physically see his shoulders drop in a deep sigh. The yellow street light set a certain buttery glow on Percy, making him look like he had his own backdrop of pure light. “I just kind of needed some air. A good stretch.”

“So please, by _all_ means, stretch outside my house by throwing _rocks_ at my _glass_ window.”

“You’re very sarcastic at this hour,” Percy commented, chuckling.

She didn’t dignify that with a response, simply staring at him and waiting for the point of the conversation he’d initiated. “So, how’s that stretch going?”

“It’s good,” he answered, half-heartedly raising one arm. “Great. Really getting the kinks out.”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t throw a rock at my window just so I could watch you stretch.”

“I think it’s a pretty good deal, I mean—”

“Percy!” Annabeth whisper-yelled. Her neighbors were extremely touchy about noise after eight o’clock. “Please, get to the point so I can go to sleep.”

He pushed a hand into his hair and gripped tightly, as if he were trying to wake himself up. “Would you mind not sleeping just yet?”

Frustration made her grip the windowsill tightly as she continued to leer at the dodgy teen. “Can you stop being cryptic? If you have something to say, say it.” She felt like she was being harsh, but it was nearing one o’clockon a school night and she had three tests tomorrow, as well as an essay due two weeks from now that she wanted to get a head start on. Not to mention that she hadn’t gotten much of her notes down; time had been wasted as her mind wandered and left her scratching a field of flowers into existence with her mechanical pencil.

 “I just,”—Annabeth briefly noticed that he didn’t have a headphone in either ear, how strange—”was wondering if you’d say no, in the event that I asked you to go somewhere with me?”

She considered pointing out the fact that it was completely past curfew, but there was something odd about the tone of his voice; his body language; something that made her want to dig through her psychology notes for an answer as to how he was feeling. “Where?” she asked. (It was a pointless question, since her mind was already made up. She would never refuse the possibility of learning more of his secrets and _finally_ figuring him out. Percy was the most difficult enigma she had ever been faced with; her curiosity itched near constantly.) Annabeth shot a look back at her open textbooks and various notebooks covering every inch of her bed, deciding that she didn’t necessarily _need_ to study anymore. She was prepared, as always.

“Just a place,” Percy mumbled, averting his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, maybe it’s not the best time—”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Annabeth said, mentally rolling her eyes. He didn’t climb out of his window and muster the courage to chuck rocks at her window just to give up in the end. Her pulse beat a little quicker at the excitement of solving one more bit of the mystery; it was irrational in a way, since she’d already learned so much about him. However, Annabeth had quickly learned that listening to Percy talk and share things he never had before was intoxicating if not addicting. She loved the feeling that came along with learning how someone was—their hardships, their connections, what they loved and what they didn’t. That’s why she couldn’t resist. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Do you need me to... catch you, or something?”

Annabeth snorted. “No, you idiot, I’m using the front door.” With that, she shut her window with a soft click and pulled the curtains back across it.

For the second time in her life, Annabeth Chase had a certain Percy Jackson waiting outside her home while she stood before her closet without a single clue how to dress. “Hoodie,” she reasoned with herself. “He was wearing a hoodie. I’ll wear a hoodie, too.” Annabeth sighed forlornly, deciding that she’d officially gone over the deep end with her talking to herself. She pulled the first jacket that touched her hands over her head and hurriedly yanked on a pair of jeans.

Out of habit, she glanced at the study door down the room before remembering that her father was out of town. Her mouth had a sour taste when she didn’t see a sliver of light peeking through the gap between the door and the floor. She turned away and breezed down the stairs, trying to suppress the disheartened feeling that rose in her chest. Her shoes were scooped up by the shoelaces as she slipped out the door.

Percy was leaning against the railing of the stairs, staring silently at a burning cigarette. Annabeth’s first thought was ‘ _shit, something bad happened_ ,’ shortly followed by ‘ _maybe I should put my shoes on_.’ She sat down on the first step, pushing her feet into them quickly and tying them off the way she vaguely remembered her father teaching her, stealing glances at Percy. The smoke wafting from the cigarette was almost pretty in a deadly way. The next time she blinked, Annabeth got a flash of the pale grey she once used to paint the hair of a frail older woman in an abstract piece of art for a contest. It was the same grey she would use in the event that she painted Percy’s profile, leaning up against the wood and staring at a cancer stick like it held all the answers.

She stood up and tapped his shoulder, carefully and with a hint of question. The last time she’d interrupted Percy’s attentive watch on a burning cigarette, they’d ended up arguing. “So... are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“I’m fine.” He shot her a smile—this completely _offensive_ mischievous one—and nodded to the sidewalk, ending up a full ten paces ahead of her before she decided to follow him. Annabeth closed her eyes, saving that smile for a day when painting hurt less and she could capture the moment.

“Where are we going, seriously?” He ignored her. “Is it illegal?” Once again, she was treated with silence. “Look, if my dad is going to be called at 3 AM and told that his daughter is being held at the nearest precinct, I don’t think we should—”

“Have you ever stopped?” Percy asked suddenly. “Have you ever stopped, and just _listened_?”

“I could ask you the very same,” Annabeth shot back. “After all, aren’t you the one who’s constantly playing music? Do _you_ ever listen?”

“I was trying,” he admitted with a laugh, sending her a sideways glance, “but someone was talking.”

“Well, excuse me for talking to a random boy who keeps taking me to anonymous places,” she muttered beneath her breath, simply to have the last word. Percy didn’t answer, as expected, which forced her into listening—which was what he wanted all along.

For the most part, all she could hear were the crickets and their obnoxious sounds. However, the longer she listened, Annabeth began to pick up on the slighter sounds: Percy’s quiet breathing,some semblance of a radio playing from one of her neighbors porches, the angry purring of the cat across the street. Each sound she heard was accompanied by an image in her mind—a stolen photograph of an elderly man fiddling with the radio; a charcoal sketch of a disgruntled black cat. The noises produced a whole different orchestra of sounds and a whole new gallery of images; different kinds of music and artwork that were just as sweet. Regardless of how pretty the sounds of life were, she couldn’t help but steal a glance wistfully back at her house. Leaving the comfort of her room, surrounded by textbooks, was never a good idea after ten o’clock. Especially with Percy, the daring guy who didn’t seem to have a care besides his guitar and his iPod.

It struck her then how much and how little she knew about him all the same. She knew the important things: he loved his mother and music, he played guitar in a band, and his stepfather left him with a certain fear of leaving bruises on people. However, she knew so little about _him_ as a person. What was his favorite color? When did he celebrate his birthday? What books did he like, if any?

Right when she was beginning to enjoy the silence as well as the time to sift through some thoughts, Percy cut in front of her and veered sharply to the left. When she turned in the direction he’d hurried off in, a park was the _last_ thing she anticipated. Regardless of her thoughts, it was there, and he was making a beeline for the set of swings furthest away.

 _He gets weirder every day_ , Annabeth decided inwardly, following after him. She glanced carefully around the park, planning an escape route in case Percy turned out to be a murderer, or if a shifty person approached.

By the time she’d settled down in the swing next to him, he’d slid another cigarette out of his pocket and was watching the embers burn. “Two cigarettes in one night? You’re just as bad as Axe,” she teased with a bit of reluctance. Annabeth had only spoken for the sake of getting him to talk; the way his eyes were darkened and his face pensive made her worry. Percy was the kind of boy who was always smiling and laughing at every word that dropped from a person’s mouth. It was rare that he brooded for extended periods of time.

“His name is short for Alexander,” Percy muttered, throwing Annabeth off. “He had a minor case of dyslexia, like me—well, _us_ , I guess—when he was younger. He always used to spell it A-X-E-L instead of A-L-E-X. I guess it stuck. Then, in high school, he dropped the ‘L,’ and decided he just wanted to be ‘Axe.’” Tapping the burned tobacco off, he shook his head. “Just changed his entire name.”

Puzzled, Annabeth said, “It’s _his_ name. He can change it if he wants.”

“But it was _given_ to him,” Percy pointed out. “If he can change what’s given to him, why can’t I?”

“Percy, what are you—?”

“Mom’s dating Paul,” the teenager mumbled, experimentally taking a drag off the cigarette. He coughed for a few seconds after, shaking his head and deciding it was a bad idea. “I didn’t even have to set up the date you told me to. He’s nice, too.”

She waited for him to say more, but nothing came. “He’s always liked her. He came to the candy shop more than any other middle-aged man I know, which sounds a little weird. Always gave your mom that ‘moony-eyed stare.’ What’s wrong with that, if he likes your mom and he’s nice to you?”

“Because Gabe was nice, too.” He dropped the cigarette in the sand and put it out with his shoe, pushing off the ground with hardly enough force to propel himself forward. “He was really nice. Gave me money to buy a milkshake with my friends. Bought me a skateboard. Called me ‘ _son_.’” Bitterness infiltrated his voice, making Annabeth flinch a little. Percy’s voice was usually so nice and calming; she didn’t like when it developed a harsh undertone. She was the mean one, and she owned up to that. Percy wasn’t supposed to be, though. “Apparently he was beating my mom senseless the whole time.”

“Percy,” Annabeth said with strong sympathy, “I highly doubt it was like that.” Inwardly, she was buzzing. _Another piece of the puzzle_ , she thought. _Gabe was nice before he went ballistic._

“ _And_ ,” Percy continued, laughing with disbelief, “I believed her when she said he was being good to us. I believed her every time she told me that the bruises were from bumping into counters at work and carelessly hitting her arms on doors. I was so _fucking_ ignorant when my mom needed me.” For a moment, she was scared that he would try and punch the nearest steering wheel. She almost reached out to him, but Annabeth hesitated just enough to give her the gut feeling that it wasn’t right. They just weren’t like that. They could share secrets all day, but _comforting_ in _that_ way? It would probably make the both of them feel uncomfortable as opposed to comforted. “But I’m not ignorant anymore, and Mom’s acting like I’m crazy for not trusting this guy the first time I meet him.”

“Did you try and get to know him?”

“Would you ask that of me?” he asked, facing Annabeth and digging his heels into the sand. “If your previous husband beat you, and you _knew_ how angry that made your son, would you expect him to drop everything and want to be best friends with the first guy you bring through the door?”

“I’m not getting married,” she replied immediately.

“That’s not my question.”

“You might like him, if you tried.”

“That’s still not the question.”

Annabeth sighed in frustration and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I don’t think I would necessarily expect it right off the bat, but I would want you to try and get to know him before you judged. Obviously, your mom wouldn’t have brought him home unless she thought he was important.”

Percy seemed to mull over that for a few minutes, then he started swinging again. “It’s hard,” he said. “Watching my mom trust another guy who could be just like Gabe. I’m honestly so goddamn _scared_ for her, Annabeth, more worried than she is about herself. It’d be like me _knowing_ you had an aggressive boyfriend and never questioning bruises...” He trailed off and looked at her, shaking his head. Then, his eyes flitted to where her hand rested on the metal chains, making Annabeth inwardly groan as he stared at it blankly

“Oh, god, this again?” Annabeth asked, removing her hand from his sight. “I swear, you’re blowing it out of proportion.” It was the truth, too; the bruise was almost gone. It’d hardly hurt in the first place.

“I didn’t even check.” His voice sounded wrecked. “How am I supposed to take care of my mom and _protect_ her when I can’t even make sure my friend is okay?”

The blond scowled, reaching over punching his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. “You’re being a drama queen _and_ an idiot right now! Your mother is ready to move on from something traumatic! Support her! Try to get along with Paul!"

"It's not that easy!" Percy yelled back.

"It is!" Annabeth's blood pressure had jumped in a matter of seconds. " _You're_ the one making it hard!"

"Why does everyone get mad when I worry?” he shouted, looking frustrated beyond belief. His eyes were visible through the darkness and the yellow lights; they were all confusion and discouragement. “All I try to do is protect people and they won’t let me!”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she swallowed back a sarcastic remark. “Because, sometimes, people need to do things for themselves. They need to be on their own and _fend_ for themselves. Your mom is probably moving on because she _needs_ to, Percy. Living in the past never helped anything. You can’t do _everything_ for _everyone_.”

Her calm voice seemed to help him breathe a bit more normally. Annabeth focused on returning his pounding pulse to normal, but Percy seemed miles away. “You know why I chose this place?”

 _Because it’s the nearest park_ , Annabeth thought immediately. It wasn’t a very large park; it only had three swings, a slide, and a rusty merry-go-round. Fleetingly, she hoped that no one called the cops on them for their shouting. “Why?”

“I can’t believe I’m actually telling you this,” Percy said, inhaling deeply. “I just remember, back when I first found out about my step dad, that I kept feeling like I couldn’t fix anything. Like I couldn’t help Mom or stop Gabe or be of any use. I remember I used to come here and swing.” He stood up and pushed his hands into his pockets, walking out five paces and facing the swing set. Percy tripped once on his way, which would have made her smile if the mood wasn’t so somber. He stared at the ground for a few minutes, making Annabeth wonder if he would ever finish his story. “You know how sometimes, when you build up enough speed or whatever on the swings, it kind of feels like you’re flying?” She nodded and he laughed in disbelief. “Well, I used to swing because I liked that feeling. You know, like I was a superhero; like I could do anything. I used to imagine standing up to Gabe and my mom being _so_ happy. I know it’s just a stupid fantasy, but it was nice to feel like I could help for once; actually do something _good_ , you know?”

Annabeth watched him step back further and further before he sat down in the sand and stared blankly at the swing set. He looked at the playground equipment like it could outline the meaning of life for him, and yet it couldn’t solve any problems all at the same time. Rewinding to the moments where he was speaking, she found the words echoing in her mind. The way he spoke, the story he told, and the way he felt made her hands itch with the urge to get it all down on a canvas. _There’s something about him_ , Annabeth decided, realizing the truth. _There’s something about Percy that makes me want to paint._

It wasn’t the things he showed her or the places he took her. It was everything about his essence; his smiles, his disheveled hair, his eyes that said every emotion he felt. Percy was one of those people who would, plain and simply, be a pleasure to draw. It wouldn’t be easy to capture the grins or the glinting eyes, but Annabeth wanted to try to get those emotions right through art. She would go through a hundred of her best canvases buried in the basement just to get his image right.

“I just felt like I should tell you,” he spoke, over her loud thoughts and the sound of wind with crickets chirping. “I don’t really expect you to say anything.”

She nodded, but his attention wasn’t on her. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I don’t trust him,” Percy continued, picking up sand and letting it fall through his fingers. The shoddy street lights let her see his torn expression. “I don’t know if I physically can.”

Annabeth sighed and stood up from her faded swing, walking slowly over to Percy. She sat down, a considerable distance away, and looked forwards like he was. She wished she could see the world from his eyes for only a moment to get a different perspective. “That’s not what your mom is asking of you. You don’t _have_ to trust him, Percy, just give the guy a chance before you write him off as the worst guy on the universe. You’ll do it because you love your mom more than that fear of him being like Gabe.” Annabeth looked around for the moon and found it—behind a group of tall trees, almost like it felt uncomfortable hearing the private conversation and decided to hide itself.

“I can’t see her get hurt again.” She sensed the pain in his voice; heard the internal conflict. She understood, but all the same, he needed to pull himself together for the sake of his mother. Sally was surely just as worried as Percy about herself getting hurt. “I can’t do that, Annabeth.”

“I know,” she told him, sparing him a glance. In the half-light, he looked almost dangerous. The darkness cast shadows that made his face look severe. She could almost see him being in a gang; just like she used to assume. “You and I both know you won’t let her get hurt. The second you get bad vibes from Paul— _that’s_ when you get protective. But until then, you can’t walk around like you have something against him. Give him the benefit of the doubt until he proves himself unworthy.”

“I wish I could be like you,” Percy said, barely above a whisper, staring at the white sand. “You always know how to fix things, you know? You always seem to have a plan. I just kind of run in screaming and hope I don’t die.” Annabeth started laughing at the statement and he chuckled along with her. “Thanks again. Looks like I owe you one.”

“Or two. Or seven,” she added, sending him a half-smile. “I don’t mind. It’s what friends are for, anyways.”

He glanced down at her hand, better visible in the yellow light. “It’s almost gone,” Percy muttered. She watched him reach out as if he were about to hold it again like he had at the dinner, but he seemed to think better of it. He leaned forward and buried his hands into the sand.

“That’s what bruises do,” Annabeth muttered, wondering why there was both a feeling of relief and disappointment. “They fade away.”

“I’m still sorry,” Percy told her, attempting to create some semblance of a sand castle. It was useless, though; the sand at this park was much too artificial and kept sliding down any hill he managed to create. “Still feeling like a major dick.”

“Stop beating yourself up for things you don’t deserve.” Annabeth saw him nod out of her peripherals, and she picked up some of the flour-like sand in her left hand. It was much too soft to be real sand; it hardly held the rough edges from decades of erosion.

In some ways, that’s how Annabeth herself was—naturally rough around the edges with the emotional distress of never having a mother and hardly having a father. Then, she wore perfectly matching clothes and aced every test tossed her way in an attempt to be like this sand here at the park: soft and smooth, without a single blemish. Annabeth wasn’t trying to be perfect. She was trying to make sure that she didn’t fall apart.

Some people, like Percy, had other means of therapy. He listened to music while she buried herself in studies and avoided the urge to take all of her emotions out on a blank sheet of paper. Most teenagers wanted anything _but_ a good relationship with their parents. Annabeth just wanted to feel like she knew her father.

“When’s you guys’ next gig?” she questioned, dissatisfied with the thoughts roaming her mind.

“I’m not sure,” Percy answered, after a moment. He kept his hands buried in the sand, so far that it was brushing his sleeves “Leo’s our publicity guy. He’s outgoing with just the right amount of annoyance that pressures people into saying yes.”

She smiled a little at that. While she didn’t know Leo at all, he did give off that vibe. “And Warped’s this Saturday?”

“It is,” he confirmed, his voice raising a little. “I’ve been waiting so long. It hasn’t really set in that I’m going yet, you know?”

“It probably won’t until you’re standing in front of All Time Low.”

Percy flung his hand from the sand all for the purpose of dramatically grabbing his chest, sending her a pained look. “I’m probably going to cry. Big manly tears.”

Annabeth laughed, shaking her head. “It’s just a band. How could you cry?” By far, the music he’d introduced her to was the most meaningful music she’d heard so far. It often dealt with the anguish of loneliness and the bitterness of life itself, all the while addressing the good things: nights out with friends, falling in love, and becoming something _big_ one day. The music had taught her that not everyone died as a person. People could die as legends. It had made her decide that she wanted to be one of those people. However, as amazing as the music was, she didn’t believe that it could ever move her to tears. Some things just weren’t worth crying over. _Most_ things, in Annabeth’s opinion.

“How could you not?” Percy asked, leaning back on his hands. “I mean, ever since I was little, we’ve moved around a lot. Nothing’s ever been steady besides me and my mom, and even that was unstable at times. The only thing I had through it all was music, I guess. It means a lot to me in that sense.”

“So,” Annabeth said, looking up into the pitch black sky, “it’s like me and studying.” _Painting_ , her mind shouted. _You said the wrong thing!_

“Exactly,” Percy told her. “You go to the books to get some stability. I put in my headphones.”

“Those contrast a little.”

“ _We_ contrast a lot,” he added with a shrug. Annabeth nodded in agreement, sparing him a glance. Percy was looking at her, without any specific expression on his face. She saw happiness, she saw uncertainty, and maybe even a bit of regret. He had the kind of face that was both readable and unfathomable. “We should probably go home. I’d hate to be stuck with you at a precinct.” He gave her an amusing distasteful look that made her smile, pushing himself up off the ground.

She helped herself up and started walking next to him, slowing her rushed pace to his lax one. “Oh, by the way, did you want any more CDs?”

Annabeth’s eyes brightened at the prospect. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I mean, yeah, the bands you’ve showed me are great, but does The Handwriting release CDs?”

Percy smiled. “No one’s ever asked. I’m sure I could make one, though.”

“No one’s asked? Really?” She seemed skeptic, which made him smile a little more. “You guys are so... _good_ though. As in, I’ve had your songs stuck in my head almost constantly.”

“No way!” Percy exclaimed, grinning like an idiot. “We’re that good?” She nodded with sincerity. “Oh, god, wait until the guys hear about this—people asking for CDs!” His smile was almost blinding as he began speaking animatedly about how after the first CD was handed out it was a possibility that more and more people would ask, and how _maybe_ it would fall into just the right hands. “We could get discovered, Annabeth,” Percy finished, a little breathless from his long speech.

“That’s great,” she enthused. “I promise to be the best groupie ever.”

“Groupie?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow at her. A small smile remained on his lips; it was the same one that always seemed to be there.

“Oh, yeah,” Annabeth said, deciding to go all out. “Follow you on tours. Buy every t-shirt. Promo you every chance I get. Start a blog. The whole deal.”

“And you’ve already met the band members. You’re even _friends_ with one. Envied by many.”

She chuckled. “I’d definitely be bragging about that. ‘He used to make me mix CDs.’”

“‘Went to parks with me at midnight,’” Percy continued. “‘I had dinner at his house.’” Right as he said ‘house,’ they stopped at her door. They were both laughing a bit at the ridiculous groupie talk, but Annabeth could see the exhaustion in his eyes. _What time was it?_ “Night, Annabeth. Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving him off with a flourish. “Night.” He nodded his goodbye, already walking towards his home. She quietly stepped up the stairs and closed her door behind her, leaning against the chilled wood and wondering what she and Percy were doing. Late night sneak-outs, fake study sessions, promises of Annabeth to cover for him; and all hardly knowing each other, yet sharing secrets so well hidden that no one else had thought to ask. As she tiptoed up the stairs, Annabeth considered edging in one last page of notes, but her exhausted mind convinced her to sleep.

**\--**

"One CD, fresh from... my laptop,” Percy announced the moment she swung the door open. He tapped it against his palm and passed it over to her.

Annabeth accepted it, glancing over the band name on the front and flipping it open. "You started out great, but the ending was anticlimactic." Using the light from the inside of her home, she read the sheet of paper he’d obviously handwritten that listed off the tracks. She smiled as she read her favorite song's title and attempted to gauge which ones she would enjoy based on the names.

He had a shy yet proud grin on his face, like he was incredibly satisfied with the music his band had made and apprehensive of it at the same time. "It's all of the songs we've recorded so far. I mean, not professionally recorded, but Axe's dad is this big tech guy and he—"

"It's perfect," she interrupted. "Like I said, I’ve had these songs in my head for days. Maybe Tonight, especially.

“Really?” Percy seemed pleasantly surprised.

“Percy?” The two teens turned from their positions, Annabeth leaning in the doorframe and Percy standing a step down but still managing to be a few inches taller, to see Sally Jackson leaning off her porch. She waved him over, saying a quick, "It's getting late. You never know what's roaming these streets."

"Right," he called back, seeming a bit peeved, "be there in a moment!"

She disappeared back inside and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Like I can't defend myself."

"Against a few street thugs? I don't think even _you_ could manage that." Annabeth tossed him a look, closing the CD case and nodding to him. "Anyways, thanks."

"Yeah, you're welcome," he answered, stepping forward and pulling her into a hug. It took her a few seconds to register that _he was hugging her_ ; by the time she reached up to return it, he was already backing away. “Also, uh... Paul's not so bad. Mom invited him over for breakfast yesterday.” She smiled slightly, nodding. “I hope you like it!” Percy called over his shoulder, having already stumbled down the stairs and made it to the sidewalk.

She got this weird feeling, like a sense of nervousness regardless of the fact that there wasn’t anything to be anxious about, besides maybe the angry looking cat across the street. It settled in her chest, falling into her stomach and making her feel like she was stuck upside down on a rollercoaster. _It’s just a hug_ , she told herself, not really sure if that was the root of the feeling at all. Deciding that she must have been getting sick—after all, there had to be an explanation for the nausea, and surely it wasn’t the miniscule show of affection—Annabeth backed into her house, kicking the door shut behind her and popping the disc into the DVD player in the living room.

She’d recently found out that music playing through the surround sound speakers was something close to perfect. Maybe it was the way that the music was louder, or the way it seemed to bounce off the walls and sink into your skin. Maybe it was the way it reminded her of the concert; the loud music everywhere around her. This just sounded like a private concert, which made it that much better. The Handwriting was inching its way up on her list of favorite bands, which Annabeth found to be surreal, seeing as just a few weeks ago she didn’t even _like_ music.

In some ways, Percy was one of the best people she’d ever met. He’d given her a night of exhilaration at a concert without doing anything illegal, thank god, and it was something that would stay in her memories forever—maybe even serving as a story to tell her kids when they start going to concerts. The black-haired boy had taught her a little something about judging others by their actions and their appearance, which was a habit Annabeth had, but he’d proven her wrong. Just because he sneaks out at night, doesn’t mean he’s a juvenile delinquent. Just because he wears jeans that hug his ankles and leather jackets, doesn’t mean he’s a bitter “emo” guy that she’d branded him as. Percy—dare she say it—was actually a really good guy.

While she didn’t feel the emotional connection to music that he did, she did enjoy it. It helped her pass the time in the much too empty house; void of her father’s presence for the moment. The loud music made her feel like it wasn’t so vacant and lifeless. It helped her push the stacked up art supplies, shoved deep into the closet, from her mind.

Annabeth cooked dinner, listening to the rest of the tracks that she didn’t know. There were only two songs out of the twelve that didn’t jump out and make her fall in love immediately. By the time she was sitting down with a plate of chicken and rice, she was almost tempted to play it all over again; to learn every single word and beat there was. Instead, she switched it out for yet another one of the discs Percy had let her borrow, and that’s when she felt it. That’s when she realized that she was so incredibly head over heels for the music he’d introduced her to, so much that she wanted to listen to it, discover it, _fall in love_ with it for the rest of her life.

It was a nice feeling—to love something so simple and something so boundless. There would always be new music to listen to. There would always be new underground bands playing shows at small venues. There would always be Percy, too, and surely he wouldn't live next door forever, but she had a feeling he'd be making music on his deathbed.

Annabeth decided that this had to be close to the way her father felt about science. There was no end to it; there would be constant new discoveries and realizations. And for once, she felt like she understood his obsession.

 _I’ll have to thank Percy later_ , she told herself. One, for showing her the phenomenal music he had, and two, for giving a gateway to understanding her father. Even if some of his actions weren’t justifiable, she _got it_ for the first time. After years of tearing up and feeling like her dad didn’t care, she finally got that he did. He did, and he cared more than anything, no doubt, but there was something addicting about it. She felt like she could sit down at a computer and discover new music for the rest of her life; her dad was working on that right now in the science field.

When Maybe Tonight started playing, opening with the gorgeous speech that she _knew_ Percy had to have written, Annabeth hummed along the whole time. She lounged on the couch and stared at the ceiling without really looking, and let her mind wander aimlessly, toying with pointless thoughts and life-changing thoughts. That's when she thought that maybe she had yet another thing to thank her latest friend for.

She felt _happy_ , the genuine kind of happy that wasn’t encumbered by the empty place in her life where her mother should have been or where her father _could_ have been. She didn’t feel stressed or confused or overwhelmed; with the music playing and making her feel like anything was possible. It was close to spiritual.

Committing every single word Axe sang to memory, Annabeth knew that this would forever be a song that meant a lot to her. Even when she fell asleep, she could almost swear it was playing in the background of her entire dream.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention.

Annabeth’s father arrived home late Monday night. It was earlier than expected, and Annabeth surprised herself when she wrapped her arms around his torso and gave her father a tight hug. She decided that they had been too cold with each other for too long. Annabeth could swear he had to blink back tears when she pulled away, but her eyes were watery, too, so there was no telling. He trudged into the kitchen, luggage left at the door without a care, and brewed a pot of coffee.

While they waited, he told her about the tests and the results. ("Mostly successful, thank God," he said. "But nothing's set in stone. There's a lot of examining that needs to be done and things that need to be explained.") He raved about the hotel they'd booked him; how posh and proper it all was. He even mentioned that he missed the old ratty couch in the living room, which made Annabeth smile a little.

She felt something swell up in her chest when he timidly asked her if there was any chance she was in the mood for a movie. Before he could mumble on and on about how they only had to watch something if she wanted to, Annabeth was agreeing. Her father was smiling when he suggested _October Sky_ , which had been his favorite movie since the first time he'd seen it, and she didn't have the heart to tell him no. He stretched out across the sofa and Annabeth opted for lying on the floor, propping herself up on a pillow.

She could remember watching the movie when she was younger; it was copy and pasted into random memories. Memories like car rides home and nights where she couldn’t fall asleep and her dad popped in a DVD in exchange for a lullaby. If she dug deep into memories, she could remember her father mouthing the words to his most treasured parts—the ones that he’d loved enough to memorize. (She had always wondered why the movie meant so much to him, and Annabeth had always assumed it was how relative to science it was. However, she often hoped that he loved the movie so much because Miss Riley reminded him of Annabeth’s mom.)

After the credits started rolling, they both dragged their bodies up the stairs to get a good night’s rest. He tripped Annabeth halfway up the staircase, having to brace the wall to keep from falling over as his body shook with laughter. She rolled her eyes and continued up the stairs. Then, she did something she had found herself doing more and more frequently—falling asleep with a smile.

School and work both continued—Annabeth had learned long ago that life didn’t stop for anyone, even for a strengthening father/daughter relationship. The only things that seemed to change was the way that Percy nodded to her with small smiles in the hallways and how Sally brought him up more often. She bloviated about how lovely it was that her son and her best employee were becoming friends; how nice it was that Percy was always in a better mood. That made Annabeth’s stomach lurch for reasons she refused to ponder.

Wednesday afternoon, Percy texted her with the suggestion of going through with the study session the next day (he really _did_ have a low grade in Trig). She hesitated for only a moment before giving him confirmation, and only because she would rather prevent the stress of Sally popping in to find a library devoid of two certain teenagers. And maybe Percy wasn’t the worst company in the world.

They really had walked in with the intentions of studying. They had even sat down at the table and opened books. Annabeth had worked through one problem with Percy before his humming became so obnoxious that she _had_ to ask what he was singing. One thing led to another and—well, there they were.

The pair of them had resulted to sitting in the far corner of the library, away from the narrow-eyed gazes of disgruntled library workers. He had tossed Annabeth a headphone and shoved one in his left ear, sending her a bright smile before making it his mission to introduce her to every band on his iPod.

“This is [This Century](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02r_7tJ1G_E),” he told her, shaking his foot back and forth to the beat. His head fell back against the bookshelf they were leaning up against, and Percy smiled as he mouthed the words. (Annabeth thought he looked a bit like heaven.)

He tapped along to the beat, playing air guitar and making her smile just a little because Percy was so _Percy_ it almost hurt. “Do you sing?” Annabeth questioned, a moment later.

Percy continued to nod along to the song, shrugging humbly. “Back-up, a little bit. I mean, they tell me I can carry a tune well, but I’ve never cared for being the complete and total center of attention, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I really love the attention I get as lead guitarist, but I think being a big singer would be overwhelming.” He snatched his beanie off his hair and shook his hair out, only to snugly pull it on again.

“So, in other words, yes, you can sing, but you don’t because the attention you could potentially get would make you uncomfortable.” He sent her a sheepish look, smiling a little and nodding as he idly scratched his cheekbone. “You’re so interesting.”

He kicked her foot, an oddly friendly gesture that made her pulse spike for a few seconds. She’d been recognizing little things—gentle pats on the back, fond smiles, jokes with the intention of making her laugh. It was all clear signs of friendship, and Annabeth wasn’t sure how she felt about becoming friends with someone like him. He was a great guy, but he didn’t have the best image. She wondered if people would stare if she talked to him in the hall. “Says the class president by day who spends her nights going to concerts with near-strangers.”

“That was once,” Annabeth said with an eye roll. “And you challenged me!”

“And you’d never back down from a challenge, right?” He looked at her, not even a single percentage as uncomfortable with the proximity as she was. In fact, he seemed more at ease than she’d ever seen him before, regardless of the fact that he was in a library—a place that seemed far from concert halls and stages. The library _should_ have left him out of his element.

Annabeth had realized long ago that Percy had a way of wedging himself into everyone’s life and simply _fitting_. He was the one brush that worked well in everyone’s fingers; the color that made every person look nice; the food that everyone loved. He fit in everywhere he went, regardless of the fact that he was vastly different in a crowd.

He looked up at her then, and Annabeth became conscious of the fact that she was staring (watching the line of his jaw, wondering what color she would use to paint his skin, _wanting so bad_ to capture the small smile that never left his face). His gaze was soft and unabashed, which just made it all worse. Following her instinct, she broke eye contact and used reaching for a book as an excuse to move an inch or two further away.

“Right?” Percy prompted.

“I’m sorry?”

“You don’t back down from challenges, right?”

Flipping through the pages, scanning it and finding words such as ‘binding’ and ‘heated,’ she decided maybe it wasn’t the right book for her. She pushed it aside. “It’s a pride thing.”

“Pride,” he said thoughtfully, turning on a new song that sounded like it was by the same artist. Annabeth watched as he picked at his shirt sleeve absentmindedly—it was a nice, sky blue, a color that she had always loved to use when painting. Annabeth’s heart ached a little. “Scared to figure out you’re wrong?”

“Scared to do what people tell me to. That gives them power,” she expostulated. “I _hate_ people telling me what to do.” She saw him nod out of her peripherals, then Annabeth watched him lick his lips and squint a little before turning to her.

“Kiss me.”

If Annabeth had been sipping a drink, she would have spit it out. “ _Excuse_ me?” She stared at him in shock, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. He looked dead serious, holding her eyes expectantly as if it were just as simple as asking for a pencil to borrow. “No!” she whisper-yelled, keeping in mind that she was in a library. Her heart pounded loudly; he had to be hearing her pulse. “Are you _crazy_?”

Percy kept staring at her with green eyes that were all honesty with a hint of unfairness. It wasn’t until Annabeth looked away that he started laughing, his shoulders shaking with the attempts to hold back his stupid giggles. Narrowing her eyes, she shoved him as it dawned on her that he’d been joking all along. He laughed, almost _too_ hard, which made Annabeth raise an eyebrow. He was turning red, too, either from laughter or maybe... his own embarrassment. _Was he serious?_ she questioned herself, trying to read the rest of his body language but ultimately failing. So it appeared she needed to study her AP psychology book a little more.

“Just testing the theory,” Percy told her, his cheeks still the slightest bit red. He seemed to be able to control blushing much better than her. “You don’t like people telling you what to do.”

Annabeth closed her book, hating the way that she was hardly ever sure about how Percy felt. “I hate you. You could have asked me to buy you a coffee or mow the lawn for you or something that isn’t so—”

“Can I just say,” he said, acting as though she hadn’t uttered a word, “you are extremely adorable when embarrassed.”

Her cheeks continued to burn and she knew she had to be a sight right now; her face red as the girls’ dress on the cover of the book she’d discarded. He glanced up from his iPod, smiling at her and still chuckling while she scowled deeply at him. She wasn’t letting him off the hook because he smiled and made it out to be a joke. Percy often embarrassed her too much for her liking. “I’m leaving,” she announced, moving to stand up.

Without even blinking, he placed a hand on her shoulder and sat her back down, clicking on a new song. “This is Emarosa. I just got into them; they’re a bit more post-hardcore as opposed to pop-punk, but this guy’s voice is unreal.” She shrugged his hand off, attempting to get up again, which just made Percy sigh as he pulled on her shoulder again. “It’s called [A Toast To the Future Kids](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8q52lrKMV8),” he shared, sending her a look. “I’m sorry for teasing you.”

“You should be,” she grumbled at him. “You’re always embarrassing me on purpose. The concert, for example."

Percy nodded, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Sometimes my teenage-boy-ness gets out of hand." A smirk spread across his features as he shrugged. "I meant what I said, though.”

“Uh...” Annabeth liked to think that she didn’t blush, but she was fooling herself. She could probably cook an egg on her burning cheeks. “About kissing you?”

“No!” Percy said quickly, reaching a hand out, but instantly retracting it. He stared at his hand, as if to say _what the fuck man why did you do that_ and it almost made her smile. “I meant, you’re adorable when you blush. Like, I know that you don’t want me to say that, but I think I owe you honesty if nothing else.” He was speaking slowly, as if he were carefully considering his words for once. Annabeth inwardly applauded him for thinking.

“Thanks,” she said, after he trailed off. Percy smiled a little, his eyes flickering with something Annabeth couldn't identify. (She really should study up on psychology and human behavior; not knowing what he was thinking had her out of her mind.) “He does have a nice voice.”

“Right? Now, _this_ ,” Percy told her, tapping a new song, “is kind of my guilty pleasure band. They’re a lot more pop than punk, but they’re older stuff has some rock influences. All of their songs just have catchy beats. It’s nearly impossible not to nod along.”

“[Hot Chelle Rae](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjBl_xtlMC0)?” she questioned, leaning over his shoulder a little to see the name. “They’ve had songs on the radio before, I think.”

“They have. Although, I don’t really care for the radio too much.”

“I didn’t even like music before you,” Annabeth shared, rolling her shoulder blades against the bookshelves. Her back wasn't very amused by the uncomfortable structure she'd chosen to lean on. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Percy seemed shy as he waved her off, and Annabeth felt like tearing her hair out. He was so full of contradictions; here he was, showing her every band he liked, and yet he appeared meek as she thanked him for it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You also indirectly helped me notice something about my dad,” she continued, desperately wanting to get to the bottom of every piece of Percy Jackson that didn't match up. He was the kind of puzzle that you spent ages trying to put together, and by the time you did, it occurs to you that the whole thing doesn't make sense. The big picture doesn't form anything besides confusion in the minds of everyone looking on. She rushed to find the words to thank him. “I just... I feel like I _get_ him a lot better than I used to. We actually watched a movie together the other night, which we don’t get to do very often. He works a lot.” The black-haired boy stopped his scrolling and looked up at her, barely blinking when his nose nearly brushed hers. He gestured for her to keep talking, but her mind had short-circuited.

 _God_ , Annabeth thought, feeling her fingers twitch. _Red, red swirls; a dash of orange and a splash of green for his eyes._ If she moved the slightest bit, she'd probably end up kissing him just like he'd asked her to.

Swallowing the awfully dry spot in her throat, Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut and pushed herself up from the ground. He stood up after her. "Tell me more, please," Percy said, in his genuine tone that made her want to scowl.

Sighing and shoving her hair out of her face, she brushed her knuckles over the spines of the books before her. "He's always working. Sometimes he even forgets to eat." Percy looked offended by that, and she plowed onward before he could get a word in. "He always promises we’ll have ‘us’ time, but it doesn’t really work out. There's the rare occasions, sure, but I think I understand him more now because I’m getting into this huge music phase. I think that’s how he is with work. I feel like I could spend years and years listening to music, and he feels like he could spend the rest of his life researching. It just never occurred to me that he worked because he was _interested_ , I suppose.” She paused for a second, letting her eyes trace the letters in front of her eyes. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders; a weight that she'd never really noticed was there in the first place. “It’s just... I mean, I already don’t have a mom”—her heart raced from that proclamation—”and I was starting to feel like maybe I didn’t have a dad either.”

It was the most she’d ever said out loud about the topic. Silena was too happy for Annabeth to want to bring down her mood with somber musings. Thalia already had so much going on in her own life that Annabeth refused to add to the burden. And Piper, well, Annabeth and Piper were surface friends. They never talked about heavy things. But for some reason, ever since Percy had shared details about his stepfather with Annabeth, she’d felt closer to him. She felt like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad trusting him with secrets since he kept so many of his own.

“I’d say that I’m sorry but I don’t think it would really matter to you,” he said softly, instead moving his arm around her shoulder and side-hugging her. She watched him grip the shelf to balance, and Percy was biting his lip. Instinct told her to pull away and refuse the comfort, but now her mind was rushing with all the possibilities of what could and should have been with her mother and father. She may have even leaned a little closer, finding solace in his warmth and cologne that smelled like waves crashing on the shore at the beach. “You’ll be fine, though, I promise. I know it sounds kind of dumb, but your dad will realize that his daughter’s fucking amazing one day.”

That made Annabeth smile, even when she felt like crying a little. That was another thing about Percy—he had a knack for cheering people up. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. This is [The Summer Set](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45Uw97qCwko). They’re kinda like Hot Chelle Rae, not so rock-ish, but I still like most of their music. The lyrics can be overwhelmingly cheesy, so be warned.” He passed her a headphone and they both leaned against the shelves, staring at the wall before them and listening. He moved his arm from around her shoulders to push a few strands of hair underneath his beanie, tapping his fingers against the shelves as if he was pressing chords into the wood to play the song by ear.

Deciding she’d had enough music for the moment, she deposited his headphone into his palm and turned on her heel. Percy watched her leave with raised eyebrows before he pushed off the shelf and stumbled in her wake, peering around bookshelves for blond curls.

He found her in the art section, oddly enough, flipping through a tall book about Egyptian art. She noticed him approaching and nodded in greeting. "What are you doing over here?" he questioned, leaning against the bookshelf she was standing next to.

"Did I ever tell you," she said, turning the page, "that I used to paint?"

Percy raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine Annabeth in a white t-shirt tucked into an old pair of jean shorts, both covered with splotches of paint. He got the mental image of walking into a room with bright light piercing the glass windows. She was repainting the Mona Lisa, and he watched as she laughed and tried to push her hair behind her ear, ultimately getting paint on her forehead. It was awfully cute; so much that he had to act like he was wiping his mouth in order to cover a smile. "Nope. Never mentioned it."

She nodded, pushing the book back onto a shelf. "Figures.” Annabeth paused, turning to Percy and seemingly sizing him up. He straightened up, feeling the need to make sure he was fitting her criteria. “In middle school, I was forced into an art class for lack of any other elective openings,” she began, picking up another book and idly turning the pages. “I liked it decently enough. I wasn’t bad at it, either. My art teacher said that I had the most natural talent of any fifth grader she’d taught. I took another class the next year,” Annabeth continued, carrying on down the aisle and keeping her tone low. “And the next year, too. Even the year after that.

Percy (accidentally) bowed his head to hear her better, immersed in the story. “Eighth grade, I decided that I wanted to know if I was any good. I painted several pieces on the best canvas I could afford, and I entered them in the art show. People judged. I got first.”

She didn’t go on for a few moments, so Percy rested his shoulder against the shelf she’d stopped at. He imagined sitting down at his desk and writing a million songs about a girl who loved to paint; a world of metaphors swam in his head, all unfinished and undefined. “What happened next?” he questioned, watching her expression shift.

Annabeth sent him a weird look. Percy hardly knew enough about girls—or _people_ , really—to know what it meant. “I remember being excited when I came home from school, because I finally had something to show for it. I had all of my paintings rolled up, and I wanted to show them to my dad. I wanted some approval; some proud look from him; _something_ ,” she said, her voice taking on a distressed tone as she whispered. “He took one look at what I did, dropped them on the counter, and went back to his office.”

Percy’s brow furrowed as he noticed the pain in her expression. _That’s hardly fair,_ he thought. Annabeth pushed her hair out of her face and stared at the books before her, absently fidgeting with her own hand. He watched the movements; the lightness and delicacy in such a simple action. He could see her hands painting. “I’m sorry,” Percy muttered, against his own will. He always hated when people apologized for things that were hardly their fault, but when it came to Annabeth, he was typically at a loss for words. It left him saying the hackneyed phrases.

She shook her head, brushing him off. “I didn’t see much of him for almost a week.” Her voice became strained, and Percy panicked. Impulsively, he placed a hand on her arm, just below her elbow. Annabeth nodded to him as a thanks. “Then, on that Monday, he said he had to leave for work. He told me that Sally would be checking in on me. And then he told me that he was sorry.”

“Wait,” Percy interjected, taking his hand off of her and resisting the urge to push a headphone in his ear to hear something besides the silence. “Why’d you stop? Painting, I mean.”

“I _was_ getting there,” she said, sarcastic undertone and all. “Some loser interrupted.”

He grinned sheepishly and held his hands up in defeat before shoving them into his pockets. “So, he apologized, then I asked why he’d been so upset that he needed to ignore me. He got this expression on his face—I used to try and draw it all the time, but I couldn’t. My dad just looked kind of... _dead_ for a second. The hardest part is always capturing the eyes,” she explained, sending Percy a glance. “For instance, I could never draw yours. When you’re trying to get a certain expression right, or a demeanor, the eyes play a big part. You have to show the way they shine or darken and the way they widen or crinkle and—” Realizing that she was over-explaining, Annabeth moved on. “It’s a process. Anyways, he told me that my mom used to paint in between her studies, and it just brought back too many memories for him. Needless to say, knowing that my mother had once done it made me even more eager to contribute more to the art world. I just... wanted to feel _close_ to her, you know?”

Percy itched with the need to know how Annabeth’s mother had passed away, but it wasn’t something he had the right to ask about. Instead, he pursed his lips and let her drag out the silence for as long as she needed to.

“And then one day, when I was painting a butterfly, of all things,” the blond said, in a way that gave him the notion that she’d never said it aloud before, “I hated it.”

“It?” he whispered in question.

“Art,” she clarified, “I hated art. It occurred to me that she was gone, and there was no point trying to paint to impress someone who wasn’t there. So, I packed up all of my art supplies and dropped them in a bin. It’s in the very back of my closet. I took all of my canvases and put them in the basement; out of sight, out of mind, that whole thing.”

Percy thought about how he would feel, putting his guitar in it’s case and shoving it underneath his bed, never to see the light of day again. It made his stomach uneasy. “But you loved it.”

“I know, Percy,” Annabeth said, her voice taking on a slight edge. “But it started to _hurt_ when I painted, because all I could think about was Mom. How little I know about her; how much I wish I did.” She looked exhausted, and he wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to tell him the rest. They could do this another day, after all. “But I couldn’t stay away from it, obviously. It’d be like trying to get you away from music.” Annabeth laughed a little then, small and watery, and he smiled along with her.”I started researching alternative methods of art; a way to stay connected without being right in the middle of the hurricane. I found something called architecture.”

“Okay,” Percy said, his tone saying what he hadn’t: _what the hell is that?_

She grinned, and bit her lip to hold it back, running her fingers over the spines before sliding one off and placing it in his hands. Her expression was less anguished, which let him know that the worst of the tale had passed. Suddenly, the image of Annabeth being cute in a paint covered shirt was snatched from his mind and replaced with a picture of her staring at a darkened canvas with a melancholy look. Both were beautiful in their own way, but Annabeth being happy was always better.

“The short version is that architecture is designing buildings. To me, it’s that and a lot more. You know how you want to be famous for making music?” Percy glanced up from his skimming of the book she handed him and nodded. “I want to be famous for things like that.” She pointed to a white building on the page; something that looked big and important.

“Architecture,” he repeated, dusting off the page unnecessarily. “That’s interesting, to say the least.”

“I know it’s a little... weird,” Annabeth rushed to explain, for some reason needing Percy’s approval. He looked up and gave her his full attention. “I just think I could do good things. Design something that’ll stay around for centuries.”

“I’m sure you could,” he said thoughtfully. “I’d always assumed you wanted to be a teacher, for whatever reason.” She scrunched her nose up. “But now that you say architecture, I can see it. I see ‘artist’, too.”

She offered a grimace and shook her head. “It’s not for me.”

“At this present moment,” he pointed out. “Maybe later. You know, when it’s... easier. I know it’ll be.”

“Your confidence in something you have no control over is astounding,” Annabeth told him, taking the book back from his hands.

“I might,” Percy argued, shrugging. “I could help you through it. Be your young and stunningly attractive peer counselor.” She sent him a dry look and he waggled his eyebrows in hopes that— _good_ , there it was. The smile, just beneath her nose. _She has freckles_ , Percy said dumbly within the confines of his mind. And she did; they were light-colored sun spots that were barely visible in the sea of her tan skin. A line to a potential song fell on the tip of his tongue.

“I think it’s just something that’ll stay with me,” Annabeth said with a shrug. “I mean, yeah, I’ll move past it, but painting’s ruined, for the most part.”

“Is it?” Percy challenged, a look in his eyes that made her forget her promise to never paint again.

Annabeth, deflecting the question, sent a look towards the doors they’d entered through. “We should go somewhere.”

“Where art thou taking me?” he replied placing a hand on his chest to pile on the dramatics. He was immediately shushed by a passing library employee, but it was worth it when Annabeth laughed.

“How does lunch sound? I think we deserve a study break.”

“Oh yeah,” Percy said with a chuckle. “All 20 minutes of it.”

The same library worker leaned around the corner, rolling a book cart past. She shot them a look and moved on, which made both of them struggle to stifle even more laughter. Percy nodded his head in the vague direction of the exit. He slipped his hands in his pockets like he typically did and left the library, with little more than an extra charming smile at the disproving woman still wheeling the cart around.

After they exited the doors, both teenagers started laughing as though a flood gate had been opened. Percy stretched, scratching his chest thoughtlessly and glancing around. Annabeth always felt the need to laugh after she felt like crying; the happiness always overshadowed the tears she’d felt the need to cry. “Everything’s so much funnier when you need to be quiet,” the black-haired boy said, grinning down at her.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Annabeth agreed, stretching as well. “No more library study sessions. It’s too stringent here.”

“I’ll pretend to know what that means if we can leave and get some frickin’ food,” Percy stated, making her bite back a smile.

They started towards their cars, graciously parked not too far from the entrance; however, right as they rounded the corner, Percy nearly ran into someone.

“Percy!”

“Leo,” the green-eyed boy said with much less enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ Leo. The kid just tended to say more than necessary, something that bothered Percy to no end. “What are you doing here?”

“Project on some guy who wrote that Fahrenheit 451 book we had to read last year. Ray Blueberry, or something,” Leo answered, glancing excitedly between the two. Percy could swear he was just like a puppy—always overly excited to see people who he’d seen not a day prior. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Ray Bradbury, by the way,” Annabeth piped up, correcting the kid’s mistake. “We were just leaving.”

“No!” Leo whined, dragging the word out. “Don’t make me do this project alone, Percy!”

“Wow, what a shame,” Percy muttered, so low that only himself and Annabeth heard it. “Sorry, man, gotta treat this lady to lunch. I owe her for being a good tutor.”

“Always a gentleman,” Leo praised, clapping Percy on the shoulder. He started walking again, shooting them both double guns as he said, “See ya later, Percy and Hot Blond!”

“You’d think,” Annabeth said, gritting her teeth a little, “he’d have learned my name by now.”

“He knows it, trust me,” the boy muttered begrudgingly. “He and the guys hardly shut up about you.” Extracting his keys from his pocket, he swung them around his index finger, approaching his car.

“They talk about me?” For some reason, it made her feel happy—like she’d been accepted into an exclusive group she didn’t even know she’d wanted acceptance from.

“They do,” Percy agreed, leaning over the top of his car. “They think you’re pretty cool; want you to come to the next concert, I think.” (The truth was, the boys _were_ near-constantly mentioning Annabeth. However, it had nothing to do with how ‘cool’ she was. It was more of a ‘Percy’s dating Annabeth’ and ‘Percy has a crush’ type mentions. He kind of deserved it for bringing a pretty and single blond to one of their concerts.)

“When _is_ the next concert?”

“I’ll tell you at the restaurant. Too fucking starved to function.” Mentally rolling her eyes at his unnecessary cursing, she nodded. “How do you feel about Subway? And maybe going somewhere after?”

“Perfect,” she replied, settling into her drivers’ seat and pretending that her palms didn’t itch with anticipation.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention.

“How do you feel about Subway? And maybe going somewhere after?”

“Perfect,” she replied, settling into her drivers’ seat and pretending that her palms didn’t itch with anticipation. “See you there. Where are we going after?”

“Surprise,” Percy called as he got behind the wheel of his blue Neon. Shoving the key in the ignition and simultaneously adjusting the radio—even before he put on a seatbelt. It struck her as something  _painfully_  Percy: music over safety.

She backed out of her parking space and waited at the stop sign for him to fall in place behind her. By the time she turned onto the main road, she’d chosen a radio station as well (it was playing a vaguely familiar country song she wasn’t crazy about; it left her wishing she’d snagged a CD or two from Percy).

“Okay,” she breathed out, just to hear something else besides the song that was getting progressively worse.  _That wasn’t planned ,_ she thought to herself curiously, trying to remember what had compelled her to give Percy the condensed version of her life story—or, her life with painting, anyways. She didn’t count anything before that as “living,” since painting had become her reason to live, period.

He’d taken all of the news surprising well, with a stunning amount of interest. He’d watched her like a therapist studied their patient—an analogy she wasn’t fond of, though it was true. Percy had looked like he was trying to physically pull the thoughts from her mind so that she didn’t have to go through the trauma of saying them aloud. (Which was sweet, she guessed. Maybe. A little. Or something.)

Annabeth glanced in her rearview mirror, a smile spreading across her face as she watched him headbang obnoxiously to something that was probably not worthy of headbanging to. He noticed she was watching him after a few seconds, which left him with a sheepish expression and a clumsy salute to acknowledge her. Annabeth could only laugh at this boy who had tossed himself into her life and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. She found that comforting, especially since Percy seemed like the type who wouldn’t go away even if you told him I want you to go away I don’t like you. She was almost positive she would end up saying it at some point.

While waiting in line at Subway, Annabeth asked him a few questions about the band. It was usually her go-to topic; it was safe and simple. Plus, it got him talking, and she really did enjoy when he spoke. His hands moved to emphasize or downplay his words; his eyes lit up or darkened. It was like watching a moving canvas before her eyes. Percy, without even trying, was a work of art. Annabeth thought that was a little unfair. “So, when’s the next concert?” Annabeth questioned, as there was a lull in the conversation.

He smiled at her, absently pulling his beanie further over his ears ( _no, no, no,_  Annabeth wanted to say,  _let your messy hair sneak it’s way out. It’s cute_ ), about to reply, but at that exact moment the ‘sandwich artist’ behind the counter said the customary “What can I get for you?” Percy didn’t stop grinning the whole time he ordered, which distracted Annabeth as she recited her perfected order to the employee across the counter. After they had paid, snatching up their drinks and their subs, he childishly pushed her out of the way to fill up his drink before she could even take a step. (If she ducked her head to hide a smile, Percy didn’t have to know.)

“I could be wrong,” he started, just as she began to unwrap her sandwich, “but I think you want to go to another concert. You’ve asked me several times.”

“Twice, actually, and I was considering it. However, I no longer want to attend because you’re being smug about it.” Annabeth tossed her straw wrapper at him and he just laughed. She took a bite out of her sandwich as Percy drank around half of his drink.

“Our next concert is the Thursday after Warped.” His eyes brightened at the mention of the event he had been waiting years to attend. “Ever heard of Rockfest?” She shook her head mutely, taking another bite. “It’s basically a music festival, kinda liked Warped, really, but you don’t know what that’s like either. It’s where a bunch of bands—Rockfest is local bands only—set up on this giant plot of land and just… play concerts. Every band who’s signed up get’s stage time, which may or may not gain fans, which may or may not lead to discovery. It’s more than one stage, too. I think there’s one big one and two smaller ones.”

“I see,” Annabeth said, pursing her lips for a moment. “And just how many bands are there going to be?”

“Well, it’s really good ol’ Petaluma and surrounding cities. I think it’s in a different place every year, and it just so happens that the first year we enter is the first year it’s held here. I’d guess anywhere from thirty to forty bands.” He shook his head and smiled. Annabeth wanted to take up photography just so that she could get the look down somewhere that wasn’t her mind. “It’s like, me and the guys, we’ve scored some gigs at bars and a few parties here and there, but Rockfest is  _big_. Important people come. Not to mention that a lot of rock, pop-punk, and metal fans come to choose their next favorite band. The guys are all crazy nervous and stressing out, but I’m just kind of happy to be going period, you know?”

“I get it,” she assured him. “It seems like it’s a big deal. Maybe you should be stressing.”

Percy chuckled. “I’ve always been more of a ‘fuck up and cry about it later’ type guy. No use in stressing over the inevitable, right?”

Annabeth faked shock. “What’s that? Did a boy just admit that he cries?”

The black-haired boy looked confused as he finished the first half of his sandwich. “Everyone does. I don’t see why guys act like they don’t. I mean, I do understand, since you’d probably get teased for it, but—”

“You don’t care,” she picked up, “about what others think.”

He shrugged. “The only time I care about what others think is when I’m playing guitar. And, you know, I care about the opinions of important people.” He watched Annabeth’s bite her lip, and he decided to add to his statement. “I think maybe you should stop caring so much, though. You’re so busy looking around at everyone else that you miss what’s in front of you all the time.” Her eyes flitted up to him from where she had been focusing on her drink, and Percy sputtered helplessly. “I mean figuratively. Not literally. Not like, you’ve been missing me or something. I mean—”

“I get it,” Annabeth said with a laugh. “Calm down.”

Percy felt himself blush a little. Maybe he didn’t care about crying, but blushing was worse.

“Are you—?“

“Eating a sandwich? Yes.”

The grey-eyed girl shot him a look, wrapping up the other half of her sandwich. It could be a meal for later. “So, Rockfest is next Thursday?” Annabeth questioned, drawing shapeless forms on the table (mindlessly tracing the lines of a wave onto the surface).

“Yeah, it is.”

“And what about your mom?” Annabeth sighed as it dawned on Percy that he had no clue what he would be telling his mother. If it were her choice, she would simply be honest with Sally, but he always expressed how much he didn’t want to do that.

“Well, don’t you want to go?” Percy hinted.

“Maybe.”

“Great! We’ll go. I’ll tell Mom that we’re hanging out.”

“Percy—”

“Annabeth,  _pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_ —”

“I think I just flashed back to elementary school, you complete  _toddler_. I was already going to say yes.” He grinned lopsidedly, and Annabeth’s hand slipped from the wave to scratching the curvature of his smile onto the table. “Only for the music, though.” He made a face at her, still grinning a little. “I think you should just be honest with Sally.”

The smile faded away completely. “I don’t think she’d get it, really.” Percy finished off his sandwich, sipping his drink for a few seconds. Annabeth leaned back in her chair and waited for the explanation she felt coming. “I mean, my music is my one secret I keep from her, and I like it that way. I usually tell Mom everything—who I think is nice, who I think is mean, who I like and who I don’t. I’m really honest with her. But the band is something she thinks I quit a long time ago, and I don’t want her to think she can’t trust me.”

“Well, you are lying to her,” Annabeth commented.

“But she doesn’t know that,” Percy retorted. “I plan to keep it that way. I just don’t think she’d necessarily appreciate it if I told her that I was in a band that played, uh, ‘punk’ music, or whatever. Even if we played classical music, I still don’t think she would like it that much. I know you think me being honest is easier, but lying to Mom is a lot better than seeing the look on her face when I tell her I’m a letdown.”

“You aren’t,” Annabeth said immediately, “and even if you were, you’re still her son. The truth has to come out eventually, especially if you get signed or something—”

“First of all,” Percy interrupted with a goofy grin, “you’ve started using band lingo. I like it.” Annabeth smiled back on instinct. “Secondly, if we did get signed, then telling my mom wouldn’t be an embarrassment. I know that if I told her about the band right now she would see it as a liability. A distraction; something that may not even end up working out.”

She was starting to see where he was coming from. Annabeth was deathly afraid of failure; by all means, she would never tell her father about a career opportunity unless she knew for certain that she would do well. After a few seconds, she nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

He smiled a little, breaking a chocolate chip cookie in half, momentarily looking at it as though it had offended him. He sighed before finally taking a bite of it. “See? Other people can be right, too.”

"I never said they couldn’t."

"You never had to," Percy replied immediately, gathering all of their trash in one hand and his drink in the other. "You’re so…  _readable_ , Annabeth. Like, I know you think you’re this prideful girl who’s too good to have anyone figure them out. Maybe I don’t know what you’re thinking every second of every day, but I think I understand you a lot more than you give me credit for.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Annabeth grumbled.  _Well_ , she thought bitterly,  _at least one of us is easy to read_.  She got back into her car before Percy could continue his ramblings on how well he knew her, and he backed out of his parking spot with his naturally chilled out attitude. The kind of attitude that maybe, in another life, she would have admired. At this present moment, she found it infuriating.

He turned onto a backroad the first chance he got, taking Annabeth to a part of town she had never ventured into. It seemed quaint; less affected by the businesses and commotion of the city itself. Finally, he turned onto a dirt road, one that was too long and winding for her taste. Boring roads always made her feel like she was wasting her time, regardless of the fact that driving in itself was saving her hours.

Then—there was something. And she didn’t really know why exactly it weighed so heavily on her.

Percy had glanced up in his rear-view mirror and caught her eye. He hadn’t been smiling before that—in fact, his face had been adorned with a slight scowl. Driving down a dirt road without skidding was a treacherous task. However, for some reason, after he met her eyes, Percy smiled. He looked away, and he smiled this ridiculous, stupid smile that made Annabeth feel like wrapping him up in a soft sweater. It was like she got a flash of future memories—a faceless man handing her over a warm beverage while she pulled her paint-splattered sleeves over her hands, a brief sensation of waking up in the morning to the smell of breakfast being made, sitting out in the sun and drinking chilled lemonade fresh from a pitcher. All of these wonderful things that went right alongside a smile like Percy’s.

Before she had time to dwell on it, his brake lights were on and he was pulling over to the right a bit to park. That’s when Annabeth noticed the giant house. She spared a glance at her car, a bit worried about being what seemed to be extremely deep in the woods. Regardless of how well she did or didn’t know Percy, there was no way she would be following him everywhere without any hesitation.

“This,” Percy said as soon as she stepped from her car, “is where the magic happens.”

“Is it a mating facility?”

Percy started laughing, and didn’t stop for probably a whole minute. (It made Annabeth’s face twist up, caught between smiling herself and refusing to smile.) “Magic as in music, Christ.”

“Ah,” the blond said with brand new eyes. “That makes a bit more sense.” He rolled his eyes and itched behind his ear— _what an odd place to have an itch_ , she thought off-handedly—walking up to the front steps of the house. “Is it vacant?”

“It is. This place was abandoned around 10 years ago,” Percy started, holding the door open for Annabeth before he ventured further into the house. She peered at the ceiling warily, staying close to Percy. She trusted him a hell of a lot more than the spiders that were lurking in the shadows. “Nico introduced us to it. He told us it was his grandparents’ old home, and they had paid it off for life. It was left to his mother in the will, but his mother isn’t around anymore.”

“Where is she?” The question came immediately without a thought, making her feel rude and intrusive after. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to ask that. It’s not my business.”

Percy shrugged, leading her to a room with a door that used to be painted white, but mostly consisted of chipped wood. Annabeth heard rustling in a corner, which made her take two steps away from it, therefore running right into Percy. “You okay?” he questioned, putting a hand on her upper arm to steady her. His brow furrowed in this awfully genuine worry that made her want to punch him (or smooth out the worry lines with her thumb, she’d always hated having to paint worried expressions).

"I’m just deathly afraid of spiders," she shared in a strained voice.

Percy tsked and squeezed her arm before letting go and nodding at the door that was their destination. “I promise to save you from the big scary spiders.”

"I’m not joking," she said defensively.

"Neither was I," he replied with a grin. “As far as Nico’s mom goes, none one of us really know. Nico only says that she’s not around. Anyways, he thinks he has a right to this house. And once we decided to start a band,” he continued, leaning on the doorframe, “Nico suggested…  _this_.”

Annabeth glanced into the room as Percy vaguely waved his hand in that direction. It had velvet red carpeted floors with patches faded from sunlight, but it didn’t feel dun. It felt homey, almost as if it hadn’t gone a single moment without someone living in it. The walls were wooden and chipping, with a few bookcases and stacks of paper scattered along the walls. In the middle of it all, there was a drum set. There were guitars in stands, a keyboard pushed against the wall, a desk in the far right corner and light cascading through the thin window.

“A practice room,” she said, a bit in awe of how the place looked—old and lived in, yet with this shiny equipment that made it something like a contradiction. Somewhat like two different times, the old and the new, battling each other.

Percy smiled a little, tapping the desk twice and saying, “Tons of songs written in these drawers. Some are just bits, some are finished, but most are those kind of half-songs that we were really into for a day but then fell out of love with them. This is our best equipment, too. I worked for mom a few summers ago and saved up a lot of money. Technically I wasn’t on the payroll since I was too young, but I always helped out at the shop and around the house. I mean,” he said, conviction in his voice, “this place is kind of…  _the_  place to us. Anytime one of us went through a crisis, we’d meet here. And we’d help that person cope by writing a song or playing stupid tunes until they could move past it. It all sounds really gay now that I’m looking back on it”—Annabeth snorted at that—”but this place does mean a lot to us.”

“How come you don’t get in trouble for all the racket?” She shuffled her feet, staring at the fading red carpet. “Also, uh, why are you showing me this?”

Percy sent her a look; one that she couldn’t decipher. As if she could decipher anything about him without a straight up confession spilling from his lips. “You know how far we drove. No way anyone’s hearing this, unless they live in the woods. Plus, our music is fucking  _great_  in case you didn’t notice. It’s not a racket.”

Annabeth chuckled and sat down in the desk chair, fidgeting with her hands. “But seriously, why did you bring me here?”

"To kill you and shove you in the fridge for a good ol’ cannibalistic snack later," he responded sarcastically, swinging an acoustic guitar up into his hands. She rolled her eyes and pulled open a desk drawer, curious about these ‘half-songs’ he mentioned. "Or am I here to seduce you with my talent, is the real question," Percy added, grinning at her doubtful look.

He picked up a steady beat, half-heartedly walking around the room. Annabeth picked through a small stack of the papers, noting that their lyrics had progressed majorly from whenever this was from.

The majority of the lyrics were scrawled across the page in what she recognized as Percy’s handwriting (which let her know that he did, in fact, compose most of the lyrics, despite his humble brush-offs). They were all dated, some written on loose sheets of paper, some on the back of receipts, some in notebooks.

"Find anything good?" Percy called over his idle playing. "I haven’t gone through there in ages."

"A few with potential," she allowed, turning in the swivel chair. "So many angry songs about exes."

The guitar playing boy laughed, but, if you had asked Annabeth, she would have said that it sounded off. “I’ve only have four girlfriends,” he said, after bringing the tune he’d been playing to a close. “It probably looks like I’m a player, but I’m not.”

"Just four?" she asked, a bit doubtful. She had found a notebook that seemed to hold bitter songs from cover to cover, a few reminiscent ones tossed in.

"Four," he repeated, holding up four fingers and laying one down each time he said a name. "Rachel, Callie, Amber and Reyna." Then, feeling the need to elaborate; to explain himself to her, he continued. "Amber was a family friend; the relationship was just a bit…awkward. So there aren’t any songs about her. Most of them are just general, really, relating back to all three relationships."

"Why didn’t they work out?" Annabeth bit her tongue after she spoke the question, hating her constantly curious mind. She couldn’t go around asking people why their exes were their exes.

"Don’t worry about it," he told her, sensing the remorse. "I’m so open about it through those songs that I don’t mind telling." He picked up a steady beat, one that he seemed used to playing. "Rachel didn’t work out because I liked someone else—which, in my defense, I didn’t know that I liked that person. She, uh, pointed it out to me.” Percy halted in his music-making as though he couldn’t focus on what he was saying. “I met Callie when me and my mom went down to Montauk for a month. I really liked her, but, you know, I couldn’t stay there forever. We didn’t even kiss, but I was pretty hung up on her for a while. Reyna… I just don’t think she needed a relationship. She’d just gotten out of a serious one and I think I was more of a rebound. I don’t blame her for that, though."

Annabeth watched a few expressions play across his face, like little bits of stories she hardly knew. She added that to the list of reasons why she could never paint Percy: his expression changed so quickly that she could never pinpoint just one. Annabeth would have to mix several together (mouth pressed into a tight line, joyful eyes, furrowed brow); it was too many contradictions to capture.

She stayed quiet for a few moments before Annabeth realized that she was, oddly enough, a bit angry with Reyna for using a good guy like Percy. “I would,” the girl flipping through the stack of papers said. “She’s stupid to have treated you as a rebound. And while I originally did not think this, you’re a good guy. It wasn’t really fair of her. If I had been in her position,  _I_  would have—” She cut herself off, realizing that she was being the presumptuous one for once. Feeling her cheeks burn for what had to be the hundredth time, she decided not to develop the thought any further.

Percy started playing again, looking over at Annabeth with a slight smile. “Thanks. I know a lot of those songs sound angry, but they weren’t all like that originally. If you look, you can see where lines were erased and rewritten. The guys went through a phase where they believed we had to write angry music to get through to people, which is natural, I guess. It was a lengthy journey to finding out the sort of music we wanted to be known for.”

"I see," Annabeth said, stopping on a paper that had no title. "’[We could be in Paris drunk on](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFEZV15KysM)—’”

"Love and champagne," Percy picked up, saying the words to the tune he was playing, "falling for you faster every sip I take.” He cocked his head to the side, considering. “I had that in my head for weeks until I finally wrote it down."

"It’s cute," Annabeth said, noticing that it was a two-liner, yet another one of those songs that hadn’t been completed.

The black-haired boy walked over to take a look at the paper. He gave her his full attention (Annabeth suppressed a smile at that) and asked, “Do you really like it?”

She nodded. “‘Course. Nice songs are good too.”

He bit his bottom lip for a moment, folding the paper up and shoving it in his back pocket. “I’ll see if I can build off it.” He settled on the floor a few feet away from Annabeth, setting his guitar off to the side and fidgeting with his guitar pick. “What about you? Any exes?”

She blushed a little bit. “Don’t laugh at me,” she ordered, avoiding his gaze.

"Of course not."

"I’ve kind of… never exactly  _had  _a boyfriend, maybe.”

"That’s a shame," Percy said, not missing a beat. "Personal choice or Dad’s choice?"

"Neither," she decided, glad he didn’t even smile. "More of a ‘no one ever asked’ type thing."

"I don’t blame them," he said with a shrug. "You’re kind of… scary."

She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

"Well, like, you know how guys apparently like girls who have confidence?” Annabeth nodded. “You have a lot of that. Or at least it seems so. Most guys want girls who are  _outgoing_ , not confident. Confidence is intimidating. They want girls who do all the work—call them first, make the first move, initiate everything. I’m a bit more old-fashioned, personally.”

"Meaning?"

"It’ll take me years before I do it, since I’m scared as hell of the female species," Percy said blatantly, eliciting a laugh from Annabeth, "but I’ll make the first move. Unless they beat me to it. Which is typically the case." She laughed again, knocking a few papers on the ground. "But I swear I always intend to act first! I just have some…  _issues_ … with the execution.”

Still smiling, Annabeth raised an eyebrow at the first line of the paper on top of the stack. “’[Stop fucking around with my emotions.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i73k9qJ40R8)’”

"Originally said something about being gorgeous. Then they switched up the tempo, added harder hitting beats, and now you have The Irony of Choking on A Lifesaver—don’t ask. Nico chose that title. Really doesn’t have much to do with the song, I don’t think." Percy didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that they’d twisted his lyrics; band interaction must have been light years different from normal interaction. He didn’t seem like the type to allow a complete 360 on the meaning of something in order to appease others.

”’[My only regret is having regrets](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHR9WIgl2ro),’” she read from the back of what looked like a tardy slip.

"Thought of it during an English lesson. My teacher asked us to list ten of our regrets. I just wrote that I regretted having regrets at all, but one can’t help but to. Never did anything with it, though. Most of the things I write down don’t even see the light of day, with the exception of the occasional curious blonde going through old scribbles." He sent her a crooked smile and she looked back down to the thin white sheets in her hand. "Favorite color?"

Hardly stunned by the randomness, Annabeth said, “Burgundy. I think.”

Percy sent her a weird look, smiling.  _He’s smiling so much_ , she observed, fighting the urge to blush when it occurred to her that it could be due to her presence. “Weirdo,” he tossed at her. “Favorite band?”

"The Handwriting."

Now that made him smile really big. “Favorite food?” he said, through a delighted chuckle.

"Fries," she decided, after careful consideration.

"Favorite movie?"

"I’m not sure."

Percy placed his guitar back on the stand and shoved his hands in his front pockets as he wandered around the room. “Birthday?”

"February third."

"Middle name?"

"I don’t have one."

He walked past her and reached out for a high five as she walked past. “Ditto.”

"So, let’s high five about it," Annabeth deadpanned. In truth, the fact sharing made her feel relieved. She felt like she was getting to know him as opposed to pouring out her feelings to an acquaintance-recently-turned-friend. "When’s your birthday?"

"August eighteenth. My favorite band is probably a toss up between [All Time Low](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qHmM5lOPLs) and[The Maine](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpI2mhiB1VE). Blue is my favorite. And I like pretty much any food you put in front of me.”

"Naturally, Mr. Teenage Boy."  Annabeth sat by a stack of vinyl records and shuffled through them. Leaning against the wall, she watched Percy wander over to a beaten up bookshelf. "Favorite… song?"

"Don’t laugh," Percy ordered, pulling out the folded paper from his back pocket and staring at it for a moment. He shot her a glance and she nodded. "[Haven’t Met You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBpvsSeBh54) by Michael Buble.”

She didn’t laugh, true to her promise, but she did raise an eyebrow. “That’s a little… soft for you.”

"I’m aware. I heard it on the radio however many years ago and it just kind of… stuck with me.” He shrugged. “What’s yours?”

“[Hey There Delilah](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoaT6WXUV_M) by The Plain White T’s. Not really sure why, but that’s my favorite song.” Percy turned and looked at her for a second before resuming his examination of the small bookshelf mounted on the wall. “Favorite… song to sing?”

"Interesting question. I don’t sing much."

"Everyone sings."

"Not me," he persisted. "Not often, anyways. I just kind of hum along with Axe. I don’t really sing, especially not in front of people who I don’t want running in the opposite direction.”

"Like I would run away even if you had an awful voice.”

He put a hand against his chest, sighing dreamily. “Thou doest warmeth my heart…eth.”

Annabeth snorted, turning her attention from the vinyls to another pile of papers against the wall. “It’s upsetting that all of these songs are unfinished. Everything I’ve read isn’t even a little bad.”

Percy shrugged. “A lot of them are just for practice. Working on rhyming, working on syllables. Picking a beat and trying to find some lyrics that go with it.” He pushed his hands into his pocket again. “Ready to go?”

"But I’m not done being a nosy blond going through your papers," she said with half-fake disappointment.

“I’ll bring you back soon.” He said it so easily, like he made promises like that every day; and yet, it was laced with such sincerity that she knew he meant it. “Mom should be getting home soon, though. I promised her I’d be back for dinner.”

“How are things with her? And how’s the whole ‘Paul’ issue?” Annabeth questioned as she placed the papers back in the drawers. Percy gathered the ones off the ground and handed them over. Their fingers brushed, and she pulled away like he burned her. (In a way, he did; his skin was warm compared to her chilled hands. Her hand seemed to tingle where their hands had collided, something that both scared her and exhilarated her in a million different ways.) Percy didn’t seem to notice as he replaced his guitar into the stand.

“A lot better, thanks to you,” he said. “Looks like we both helped each other with some mother-father issues.” He led the way back outside, shoving his hands into his pockets the moment Annabeth fell into step beside him. “Paul’s pretty cool. And mom—I kinda, uh,  _missed her_ , actually. I just didn’t… know it, I guess.”

“You’re embarrassed,” she said simply, sensing his mood change. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“Natural reaction,” Percy answered. “The guys always tease me about how much I love my mom. Plus, it’s kind of like the crying thing, I guess. Usually, I wouldn’t care. But the guys are important people. I’m in a punk band,” he continued, seemingly having difficulty with his reasoning. “I need to be more ‘hardcore’ than that, or something.”

“Your words or theirs?”

“Mine.” Percy sighed, laughing a little. “I mean, it’s just—me and my mom, you know? We’ve been through just about everything together. It’s made us close, because sometimes we’re all each other’s really got, which sounds weird, but—”

“I get it.” He looked at her and nodded, pursing his lips. “I wish me and my father were more like that.”

Percy walked a bit faster and opened her car door for her. “You will be. It’ll just take a little time, but you will be.”

“So confident. How intimidating.” Annabeth gave him a snarky smile. He chuckled and shook his head, leaning on the top of the car door while she stepped inside. “So, again,” she started, the question gnawing on her conscience, “why’d you show me this place?” He shut the door for her and waited while she rolled the window down to speak with him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had fun. It was… really, uh, nice actually.”

She despised how often she lost all elegance when speaking to Percy, or any boys at all really. Sure, Annabeth was much more study oriented than anyone she’d ever met, but she still had the same reaction to cute boys that any other teenage girl would. And Percy—well, yeah, he was filed under “cute boys,” right in the section of “aw” and “I can be really  _hot_ , too.” None of which she would admit aloud.

"I’m glad you liked it," he said, resting one arm across the top of her car and leaning down to see her better. "I showed you because we needed something to do. And, um… I thought you’d like it, I guess. Seeing as you like my band so much." Percy sent her a cocky grin, staring at the house fondly.

"I feel kind of honored," she confessed. As far as architecture went, she noticed, the house was definitely old. "I mean, knowing how much that place means to you guys."

He nodded distractedly, tapping the top of her car. “I’ll see you later, then?” Annabeth smiled lightly as an answer. “It was good hanging out with you, just so you know. I used to hear so much about you from Mom and I can’t tell if you’re exactly what I expected, or way off.” He gave her a once over with a lazy smile, as if he were still trying to decide if she was what he thought she would be. Then, he backed away, saluting her. “Later, Annabeth.”

Percy walked over to his car, like he hadn’t just tossed her a bone and walked away without any explanation. She wished he would have said that another time in which they could have spoke about it more. Annabeth was eternally intrigued about just what Sally had said about her within their household.

By accident or on purpose, she didn’t see Percy until early Saturday morning—the day of Warped. She wasn’t sure if she was expecting it or if she was too tired to react when she saw Percy on the other side of the door. Regardless, all she did was give a half-hearted smile and wave. “Hey,” Annabeth said after a moment, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms a little. After it registered that she was still in her pajamas—and sadly, it was her most minimalistic outfit, too, the black tank top with a pair of soft shorts—she moved behind the door a little more.

"Oh god, I didn’t wake you up, did I? I’m so sorry, I just wanted to make sure—"

"You didn’t wake me up," Annabeth mumbled, unable to get her mouth to respond so bright and early. "It’s still 8 AM, though. I got it covered. Go to Warped. Have fun. Don’t take drugs from strangers."

He laughed and placed his arm against the door frame, moving closer.  _No, no, no ,_ she thought with slight annoyance,  _the whole point of me stepping back was to put some distance between you and my scantily-clad self._  ”I, uh, just wanted to tell you thanks again.”

"You’re welcome." He nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket as it vibrated. "The guys?"

"Yeah, they’re waiting. Over there," Percy said, pointing out a sleek black car.

"Then go!" Annabeth said with a weak laugh. "Tell me what everyone plays and—"

"I just—" he interrupted. "I mean, thanks."

"You said that."

"I know, but I—" With a loud sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket once more and read the message something like three times if Annabeth had any guess. Then he inhaled deeply, texted them back and looked up at her. "Thank you."

"That’d be the third time—"

He reached forward and pushed the door open a little wider. Annabeth just barely moved out of the line of fire, but before she had the chance to chastise him for it, he was inside her house and hugging her tightly. “I know we don’t really hug often,” he said softly, “but I felt… wrong or something, leaving without saying goodbye.” Percy pulled back just as quickly as he’d lurched forward, scratching the back of his neck.

She recognized his embarrassed expression. “Are you… okay?” she questioned, trying to act as if he didn’t just knock the breath out of her.

"I’m just a little mortified at the moment," he replied. (She heard a series of vibrations that told her the guys had something important to say, but she decided not to bring it to attention.)

"Why the mortification?" Annabeth questioned, desperately wishing she had a jacket to wear. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to draw attention away from her clothes, or lack thereof.

"I’m not sure if I want to tell you." Percy sighed in exasperation, stepping outside her home again and flicking off the black car without sparing them a glance. Annabeth raised an eyebrow at the obscene gesture. Percy’s phone buzzed again.

"You’ve already brought it up." He gave her an annoyed look, but Annabeth never had limits on how hard she pressed for answers. "What’s up?"

"I kind of… Made them turn around."

"Turn around… _ Jesus_, how far away were you?”

"Just down the road," Percy rushed to assure her, yanking lightly on his dark red beanie. "I felt bad for not saying bye. I owe you a lot."

"Yeah, you do. Now get off my porch." He smiled a little, averting his eyes before meeting hers again. "I’m serious. Leave me alone. I’ll call the cops."

"Okay, okay," Percy relented with a grin. He cleared his throat. "I’ll see you extremely late tonight. I’ll be the one throwing rocks at your window."

"Wow, shocker," she deadpanned, (fondly) rolling her eyes. "See you later."

“I’m gonna make this up to you, I swear,” he promised, and with that, he was on the way back to the black car, strategically parked out of sight from his home.

She stepped back inside her house and closed the door behind herself, leaning against the cooled wood. Turning around just to say goodbye? Annabeth couldn’t decide if it was the first or last thing she expected from Percy, who was almost a walking contradiction—the sweet and happy punk rocker, the one who loved music yet seemed embarrassed of his own. Even with dyslexia, there he was acting as the sole songwriter of The Handwriting.

Her phone started ringing upstairs, blaring one of the few ringtones her iPhone had offered her. Sighing loudly, Annabeth jogged up the stairs, picking up the speed as the tune came to a close.

In the end, she answered just before the call would have dropped. “Hello?”

"Hey, Annabeth! Tonight’s going to be a late night for me—just some paperwork to deal with—and Percy’s not answering his phone. Would you let him know?"

"Of course!" she replied with probably too much exuberance at her fortune.

The two exchanged goodbyes and the blond nearly fell over from relief. ‘Late night’ meant that Sally would probably arrive home at eight or nine. At that point, Annabeth could mutter an excuse of ‘Percy decided to tell me last minute that he has a test on this’ or ‘we kind of started a movie up.’ Hopefully she could keep dropping excuses until he let her know that he was home.

"Dad!" Annabeth called, moving down the hall. She pushed open his office door and leaned in to see her father pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. "If Sally calls and asks, me and Percy are studying."

"Are you?" he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

She didn’t even blink. “Of course we are.”

Her dad saw right through the lie, laughing. “Whatever you say, Annabeth. You’re working very hard on whatever subject.”

"Thanks, Dad." She sent him a quick smile. "And it’s Trig, for the record."

"Never cared for Trig," he said with a slight frown.

"Probably too busy burying your nose in a physics textbook," Annabeth teased. "I’ll be in my room if you need me." He waved her off, not unkindly, and she shut his office door.

Oddly enough, she had found herself feeling somewhat bored on days sans-Percy. She could manage, sure, but he had this way of surprising her every time she was with him. While she would adamantly refuse to liking surprises, the truth was, she did. However, more than anything, she loved mysteries. Annabeth’s middle school years were a blur of reading every Nancy Drew book released. Percy made sure her day had just the right twist to make it different from the day before.

She pressed play on her radio, something that had become a completely unconscious action, grabbed a textbook and a few sheets of loose leaf paper and sat down to take more notes.

(Some part of her brain whispered that maybe she could go out for once; visit that cafe down the road with the constant live acts. Maybe she could pick a table in the corner and sketch something out; put her old drawing skills to work. However, lately, going anywhere without Percy felt different, not to mention a lot less fun. She didn’t allow herself to draw much anymore, regardless. Not to mention that it only felt comfortable going out of her comfort zone with him, but never alone.)

Rubbing her temple and pulling her hair up into a brisk ponytail, she buried her nose in a textbook rather than opting for something fun—not for the first time, and surely not for the last.


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention.

> _okay we’re here_

> _where do i go_
> 
> _oh my god_
> 
> _there’s so many people_
> 
> _we’re just going to follow the music_
> 
> _I DON’T KNOW THIS BAND BUT THIS IS EXCITING_

Annabeth laid her book down and smiled at the influx of texts. It had been close an hour and a half since he had left her house and managed to contact her. It was nice, considering she hadn’t expected any sort of message from him until lunchtime dropped, since she was almost positive he’d be too busy having fun at all of the performances. It made her smile a little to know that he was willing to text her for the hours to come, usually in 10-20 minute intervals as he concert-hopped. She grinned every time as she scrolled through them, laughing at his remarks and more often than not sending back messages that didn’t do his wit justice.

Sally called her around ten to ask how studying was going, lightly mentioning that Percy was being a nuisance and refusing to answer his phone. Annabeth told an easy fib: his battery had died and he had yet to find his charger. Yes,  _of course_ , they’d looked all over his room. Sally expressed that she felt like an overbearing mother, soon after ending the call and not even bothering to ask Annabeth to hand the phone over to Percy.

It was nearing noon, unfortunately during one of Percy’s spastic texting moments, when her father leaned into the room and asked her an odd thing: “Do you still like peanut butter and jelly?”

"Is that a question?" Annabeth replied over the constant vibrations as the texts rolled in. Her hand itched to reach out and read through them, but she didn’t want to be rude.

"I was hoping you’d say yes," her dad said, pushing her door open further to reveal a plate in each hand. "I can’t eat all of this myself." She smiled and waved him over, feeling her heart flutter at the prospect of some time with her father. He seemed a little hesitant as he stepped into her room, and it occurred to her that it was very rare he did so. She was almost sure that he hadn’t wandered into her room for at least two or three years—that made her stomach drop—but she was happy that he was here now, and with lunch. Annabeth pushed a stack of books out of the way to make room for him along her bed and moved her legs to lay over the edge.  ”Someone’s trying to get ahold of you.” Her father sent a pointed look to her cell phone, which appeared to be buzzing endlessly.

"It’s just Percy," she told him with a shrug, accepting the plate he passed over to her. The sandwich was cut into four triangles, which was exactly how she preferred it as a child. She almost wished he would have poured a few Goldfish on the plate—going all out, not to forget the juice box without the straw in yet. She always did that part herself.

"You guys have been, ah, hanging out a lot, right?" She shook herself from her childhood reverie and took a bite of her sandwich, nodding in response. Annabeth felt like she could hug her father when she tasted apples—apple jelly, her favorite since the day she was big enough to eat sandwiches. "I never knew that you redecorated," he said, looking around the room curiously.

She glanced at the walls she’d painted herself two summers ago when he’d gone on a business trip. Her curtains were new, too, perfectly matching the modified color scheme. It was one of the very few luxuries she had allowed herself after the certain spite she held for painting. Those few weeks she spent painting had her relaxed; moreso than she had been in years. “I painted a little, yeah.”

"It looks nice. All by yourself?" Annabeth hummed her confirmation. "There’s those art skills. I remember you used to draw all the time." He paused, and she hoped he was thinking of her mother; how much Annabeth was like her in the way they loved all aspects of art. She hoped that his mind was absent of spite and full of sweet reminiscences. "Is that still a thing?"

She shrugged, both uncomfortable and overly excited at the prospect of her father getting to know her all over again. “Not really painting. It’s not fun anymore,” she told him, her heart sinking as she said the words aloud. Annabeth had thought them a million times, but speaking them made the fact palpable and real—very, very real and very, very true. Shaking her head, Annabeth continued. “I’ve kind of got into something else, though. Ever heard of architecture?”

She felt weird saying it to her father. It was typically one of the first things she made known after meeting people, and yet here Annabeth was relaying the fact to the person she had been with since birth. The fact that maybe he didn’t know made her feel detached. It was the same way she had felt when it dawned on her that he hadn’t stepped into her room for a solid two years. Often times, if Annabeth saw him at all, they would be passing in the hallway or nodding to each other in the kitchen. He didn’t typically make the effort to lean his head in just to say a simple  _how are you_  or _I_ _hope you had a good day_.

"I remember you mentioning it once or twice." He sent her an unsure, small smile. "You could design a building for me if I ever get the guts to start a corporation myself."

Annabeth’s eyes widened at the prospect. “You would let me do that?” Regardless, her mind started racing with potential designs; intricate or simple? Modern or classic? Surely he’d want solar panels incorporated—

"Of course," her father said, a bit bashful. He sanded two of his fingers together to rid of crumbs. "It would be a nice way for me to be getting work done and spend time with you simultaneously. Plus, I know you would do well." She nodded distractedly, managing to dispel the thoughts of how much she could do with a project that didn’t have a semblance of a plan.

"Thanks," she answered, feeling the conversation wind down. Desperately, she grasped at the first thing her mind threw at her to say. "How’s work?"

He scrunched up his nose, and paired with his disheveled hair, her father looked like a toddler in a button-up. “No work talk. I know you aren’t too fond of it. How are things in Annabeth World? And, uh, the Percy…  _guy_.”

She smiled and shouldered her dad, who was adamantly peering at the carpet. “What’s that tone?”

"Well, I just know we haven’t talked so much…" he started, "and I was a little curious as to why you were going out so often with this Percy fellow. Are you guys—?”

"No way, Dad," Annabeth said, seeing the question coming. "Friends. We’re friends. I would tell you."

Her dad lifted his hands in defeat. “I don’t mind if you are, you know, dating, or anything. I just thought it was a dad’s duty to ask.”

Annabeth’s thoughts wandered to a few stolen moments; a stare here, a smile there, an order to kiss her once. She fondly remembered childish giggles and poor attempts at looking seductive. She thought about messy hair sneaking out from underneath beanies and lips that always seemed to be quirked up in a smile. Maybe, if she squinted, Annabeth could see where their friendship (if it was even that) could be misconstrued as a relationship.  _But remember how he blushed after he said ‘kiss me’?_ She frowned at the way her subconscious fought back her mostly serene thoughts. _Why would he blush if he had been joking anyways?_

_Hush_ , Annabeth wanted to say back.

"Is that a blush I see?"

"Oh my god, Dad!" She clapped her hands over her cheeks in order to hide them, but the damage was done. She heard him laugh. "Go back to your office. Oh my god.”

It only made him laugh harder as she got progressively redder.  _Why are both of the main boys in my life complete and total children?_  Annabeth wondered to herself, astonished at who she chose to associate with.

"This was nice, you know, father-daughter time," the hard-working man announced, gathering the plates, still smiling wryly at his daughter’s embarrassment. He pursed his lips as he turned his back, the thought of his past wife crossing through his mind; he could remember being just as hyped up and sickeningly in puppy love as Annabeth looked right now. "We’ll have to do this again."

Annabeth’s mortification waned and it was replaced with a fondness for her father. The fact that he was making an effort made her smile in itself, but here they were joking as if they had never stopped talking. “Thanks, Dad.”

He turned, halfway to the door, and smiled. “You’re welcome, Annabeth.”

"Oh, and Dad?" Already out the door, he leaned back in to hear her. "You know how work stuff is off limits for me?" He nodded. "Percy stuff is off limits for you."

She heard her father laugh as he closed the door behind himself, which made rub a hand over her face and grin just a little. Usually, he was frowning pensively, his brow drawn and his glasses pushed down to the tip of his nose so as to read a file or the words on his laptop screen. It was nice to see her old man happy.

**_Just had lunch with Dad…_**  she sent to Percy as a reply to all of his messages about Warped.

**_Fucking shit, that’s great!!!!!!_**  He seemed to curse much more when he was excited, she noted. Either that or he was putting himself into the mindset of a punk rocker who cared loads more about music than his language.  ** _Really, really great. How was it?_**

**_Fun_** , she sent, then after a moment, followed it with,  ** _He was teasing me about you._**

For a while, Percy didn’t reply, which didn’t bother her. After all, he had settled into the routine of exchanging a few messages for five minutes and not replying for twenty as he enjoyed Warped Tour. However, after a half-hour had passed with nothing but radio silence from Percy, Annabeth felt a little anxious.

Unlocking her phone, she clicked into her messaging application and let her eyes run over the last message she had sent.  _He was teasing me about you_ _._  Incidentally, it was exactly thirty-two minutes post-sent message when it occurred to her that it would have been much better received with an explanation. She considered typing one out right then and there, but decided against it. Justifying the poorly thought out message a full thirty minutes later would give off the image that the words had weight. And they didn’t. Mostly. It was just a statement.

She wondered what he could be thinking as he read it. Obviously not something very positive, Annabeth decided. It appeared he didn’t care for the message enough to reply, anyways.

“What’s done is done,” she coached herself, laying her phone face down on the bed to discourage staring hopelessly at it. She picked up her copy of  _Walden_ —the most treasured book from her shelf, written by Henry David Thoreau. It proved to be a fruitless attempt at distracting herself. The words hit her eyes but her mind refused to register them.  _Traitor_ _,_  she thought grumpily, hating the way her mind decided to short circuit the one time she needed it to be dependable.

Groaning lightly, she snatched up her phone again, only to see that she had no messages. She even clicked onto Percy’s name in her conversation list to make sure her phone wasn’t glitching. Powering it on and off to waste time, Annabeth reassured herself with sensible explanations. Maybe he passed by a band he liked and was moshing—not ignoring her. Perhaps they had a fairly long set list. Maybe he was letting the rest of the boys borrow his phone and send out reassures to their families and friends. Maybe he hadn’t felt his phone buzz.

Annabeth scooped her book up again and smoothed the crinkled page, attempting to sink into the well-weaved words.

By the time it hit an hour past noon—a disappointing forty-five minutes after she’d sent the message that was slowly becoming the worst regret of her life—she had lapsed into a reasonable state of hysteria.  _Why_  did she send that? Annabeth pushed her hair out of her face in agitation as she remembered Percy refusing to sing because he didn’t want her running in the opposite direction. She’d done just that; sent him fleeing away from her uncomfortable text messages.

This was exactly one of the reasons she preferred face to face speaking. Annabeth always worked better when she could easily cover mistakes, imply that she meant one thing as opposed to how it had been stated. It was one of the reasons she loved art, too; every mistake could be turned into another variable in the masterpiece. So what if she chose the wrong color for a stroke here? She could use it to highlight the color over there.

Exactly ten minutes after the hour mark had passed, she, plain and simply, flicked her phone off the bed and flinched when it hit the floor. Her Otterbox had hopefully kept the damned device from shattering, but she still felt like she would need to drop it from her window to get some satisfaction. Letting out a peeved sigh, Annabeth opted for some time well-spent, not staring helplessly at her phone. It was just a text, anyways, and to Percy of all people. She didn’t care that much, or at least she shouldn’t. (She  _didn’t_ , Annabeth swears.)

A shower, three glasses of water, and a thirty-minute documentary on the Gateway Arch later, she resulted to returning to her room—only to retrieve her copy of _Walden_. She planned on vacating the premises after.

Stepping over the threshold, Annabeth latched her vision onto the worn cover. The book itself weighed heavy on her. It was the book she had found on her father’s shelf when she’d had an awful nightmare, one that left her crying so loud he’d been forced to pull her out of bed and lay her on the therapy-esque couch in his office. As he tapped away at his computer, she could recall staring wide-eyed at all the books on the ceiling-to-floor shelves. The room, to her eight-year-old self, was unfathomably large with way too many books that didn’t look all that exciting. Then, her eyes had latched onto a book that was green—she used to  _adore_  the color green. Accidentally, as she reached out to pull the book into her small hands, she had caused it to tumble off the shelf and onto the wooden floor, disrupting her father’s silence.

His voice was as clear in her head right now as it had been the day he had spoken the words.  _This is a very special book, Annabeth. It was Mommy’s favorite._  Afterwards, he’d brought her back into her room and tucked her in, pushing the book onto her tiny semblance of a bookshelf in the corner—the one she would have to upgrade to a full-sized one in merely a few years. He had told her to read it when she thought she was ready.

As Annabeth picked up the book, she thought of a million points in time that she had attempted to devour the book that her mother loved so dearly. Each and every time, she had frowned and pushed it back onto the shelf, wondering why her mother was so fascinated with a book that seemed so very boring.

Her freshman year, Annabeth had picked the book up again, like she did routinely. And as the words flowed past her eyes and into her mind, she saw her mother’s enchantment with the tale. It soon became something that she read frequently, over and over, absorbing the words that had hit her mother’s own eyes hundreds of times.

Now, she picked the sacred book up and folded it against her chest, turning on her heel to pad down the steps into the safety of the living room.

Annabeth made it one, two, three steps before she nearly threw the book down in frustration. Placing it carefully on her bed, with a fair amount of displeasure, she trudged over to her phone, letting her feet drag on the carpet. She was being the child for once. It was a text message, not a bomb on a timer.

Turning her iPhone over, Annabeth was stunned to see several missed texts from Percy and two missed calls. Panic rose up in her for a whole different reason. Worried that something had happened, she redialed his number and leaned against her bed, anxiously tapping the ground.  _Why didn’t you just stay in your room?_ She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself.

Percy picked up after three rings. “Learn how to answer your phone!”

"Don’t yell at me! I was downstairs because you—” Annabeth paused mid-sentence, realizing what she was about to admit to. “What’s up?” she continued lamely.

"I walked away from the guys. They wanted to see Blood on the Dance Floor and I’ve never been crazy about them. I felt a bit, uh, awkward just walking around. I thought maybe I’d look cooler if I was on the phone." She could hear his voice clear enough, but there was definite static from the music and cheers. "How’s your day been?"

"Uneventful. Tell me about the shows."

That was all it took. Percy went off on the longest spiel she had ever heard from him, describing in detail which bands were good, who sang what songs, and bands that he had never heard of that were amazing. The fanatic possessed a certain lilt to his voice when he spoke of music, something that warmed her heart and made her hope that she could find something to speak that passionately about. “I wish you were here. The guys are being snobs.”

"Snobs?" Annabeth questioned, her mind still reeling from all of the information she’d had to absorb. After she realized that he wanted her there, she suppressed a slight flutter that rose up in her heart. She tried to imagine what he could be seeing right now; the kinds of people, the stages, the lights—all of it. Annabeth wondered how hard it would be to paint a crowd; to have the challenge of capturing the personalities of every individual in a single, stolen moment.

"The worst kind, too,” Percy said spitefully. “They’re being music snobs. I mean, I heard that a lot of people at Warped would be just that, but I didn’t know it would be the people I know.”

She hummed, remembering a rant Percy had dished out about music snobs. “‘We all like the music, regardless of how long we’ve liked it,’” Annabeth recited.

"Exactly," Percy acknowledged. She noticed that the static had quieted, replaced by an echo. "What’s that about your dad? I got a text…"

"What?" Annabeth asked on reflex, not registering the question. "Oh, right."

"Well…?" He laughed, and she imagined him scratching the back of his neck and tugging his beanie on tightly for security. She saw a clear image of him biting the left side of his lip—something she had recently realized he did every time he was unsure of himself. It wasn’t weird to notice that, either; Annabeth was an artist. She often picked out people’s ticks and tells.

"Dad mentioned how someone was blowing up my phone," she started, "and I told him it was just you—"

“ _Just_  me?” The smile in his voice made her grin and press her forehead against her knees as she pulled them up to her chest. She felt stupid, but she was alone, for the moment. She could be as dumb and teenage-girl-esque as she wished. “Offended. I thought we had something special.”

"That’s what my dad was making fun of," she continued, "the fact that we spend a lot of time together."

"He thought we were dating."

Annabeth almost choked. “Well, yeah, that.”

"You sound as though you didn’t expect me to get that all by myself," he said, sounding awfully proud for a boy who couldn’t explain the concept of invisible numbers, even if he was at gunpoint.

She rolled her eyes, using her shoulder to hold the phone close to her ear while she tied her hair up simply to have something to do. “You aren’t always the brightest crayon in the box.”

He laughed, the echo causing Annabeth to pull the speaker away from her ear. “I noticed. I just… uh, the guys kinda say the same thing. A lot.”

"About you not being smart?"

"I was actually referring to the dating thing, but yeah, they tend to say that, too."

"Where are you?" Annabeth asked, deciding to keep that conversation as short as possible.  "There’s this awful echo."

"Um… the bathrooms?"

Dropping her head back against the bed, she squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead. “Do I want to know?”

"I’m in here so that I can hear you," he deadpanned.

"How sweet."

"I’ve been told I’m romantic."

"Oh, yeah, thanks. I’m so grateful for you going to the bathroom for me. A true gentleman."

"Well, what did you want me to do? Scale the nearest mountain?"

"The sad part is that you probably would," Annabeth said, pulling one of her curls in front of her to examine it.

"Anything for you."

"Is that sarcasm I hear?"

"Maybe a little," he laughed, making her grin and join in. For some reason, she was a hell of a lot better with banter when she wasn’t in front of him. Maybe face-to-facewasn’t the best way for her to communicate with Percy, even if she could cover up vocal mistakes. Oftentimes, she was too busy thinking about how she would capture his features on a canvas or with a bit of graphite. “We’re ridiculous.”

"Maybe a little," she repeated, lying flat on the floor. "Do you think the guys are done?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" There was a certain tone to his voice, almost in the same way one in a romantic comedy might say, ‘are you trying to seduce me?’

"I’m just making sure that you experience Warped enough for the both of us," she explained, biting her lip. (Maybe to stop a smile, or maybe to stop her from saying something stupid. Maybe both.)

"Would it be weird to say that, regardless of the concerts, this conversation has been the highlight of my day?"

Annabeth brought a hand up to cover her face.  _Jesus Christ_ , she wanted to say. She wanted to put her hand over the speaker and scream it, actually, because this guy was entirely too great for a million reasons she hesitated to let herself acknowledge. “No, it’d be sweet.”

"This conversation has been the highlight of my day," Percy said, confidence and candor lacing his words.

She had never been so glad that phone calls weren’t face to face; her obnoxious smile paired with a blush would have been awfully embarrassing. “I’m happy to hear that.”

"No confessing your love for me? I’m a little disappointed."

_Fuck_ , Annabeth thought, uncharacteristically (Percy was wearing off on her),  _holy fuck, he’s flirting with me_. She could almost hear the radiant green his eyes were in the moment; the way his full smile was slowly waning into a smirk across his face. “It’s been the highlight of my day, too?”

"Don’t do me any favors," Percy told her, teasingly. "But thanks."

She hummed in reply. “Are you sure the guys aren’t missing you?”

"They’re probably looking for me. I should go. You know, back outdoors."

"I forgot you were in the outhouse," Annabeth tantalized, raising her eyebrows in amusement.

"Oh, god, I have never hated you more." She laughed, rubbing her temple. "I’ll talk to you later?"

"Keep sending me these text updates; they’re fun."

"Will do," he answered. "Thanks again for helping me look cool."

He hung up before she got the chance to say bye, which didn’t bother Annabeth too much since they may have kept talking if one of them didn’t end the call. She glanced over the missed messages, all of them ordering her to call back in different variations. For a few moments, she was angry that she had been such a child about him not answering her in a timely manner. After all, Silena had testified a million times that some boys were awful at replying to texts, which, Annabeth supposed, was just verified by Percy Jackson.

She stared at the ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Annabeth wasn’t stupid. She would have had to be completely blind to miss the signs he so obviously gave: sweet smiles and even sweeter lines, caring eyes and the occasional caring touch. It was just a matter of deciding whether Percy fell into the category of  _major flirt_  or  _no, he really likes you_. She was leaning more towards the first one, and for a few reasons, but the most prominent one was like this: Percy was attractive, raised by a sweet mother, and he was in a band. He surely had enough schmoozing skills to charm the pants off of the first lady.

It was only then that her mind wandered off to a second dilemma: did she like him?

_Nope_ , she said inwardly—and not in response to the question, but to shake the thoughts that were plaguing her. Too much thinking never did anyone any good. Especially her. When Annabeth got a thought in her head, she would go to the ends of the earth to find the answer or some sort of explanation.  _Curiosity killed the cat?_  she thought with mildly morbid humor.  _More like curiosity killed the Annabeth._

She stretched out across the couch, opened  _Walden_  to the last place she had marked, and started reading. However, even as she read the words and philosophical ponderings that had engraved themselves into her mind, her thoughts sprinted to miles away. Warped Tour, to be specific. And a certain boy who was probably screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs even if he promised that he didn’t like to sing.

**\--**

Sally got home at 8:03 PM on the dot. Annabeth saw her car pull into the driveway from the window adjacent to her television; watched Sally gather her belongings and stroll up to the front door. Then she picked up her phone, clicked on the woman’s contact, and waited five minutes before calling.

"Hello?" the woman answered in her friendly tone.

"Hey, Ms. Jackso—I mean,  _Sally_ ,” Annabeth said, laying it on thick. “Percy decided to wait until the last minute to tell me that he has a test on this Chemistry chapter about gas laws. It’s a real pain to learn unless you study it pretty hard, so we’ll probably be a little longer. He said that he saw you pull up?”

"Oh, yes," Sally replied, her voice expressing the exhaustion she must have felt. "I just got home minutes ago."

"Is that alright? Percy staying over for a bit longer while I try to knock some knowledge into his head?"

The woman laughed. “Of course, Annabeth! You can keep him over there the whole night if you want.”

The blond gave a genuine chuckle at the irony of their plan. “I just might. He did say something about wanting to see this movie my dad told him about…”

"Really?" Sally said, sounding surprised. "Percy’s never been able to sit through a full movie."

Annabeth attempted to sound as shocked as possible while she rushed to amend the fallacy. How had movies never came up in conversation— _not once_? "I guess my dad gave it a pretty good rep then."

Ms. Jackson hummed, neither approving nor disapproving. “Well, I’m all for it if we can convert him into a movie-watcher.” Annabeth had to restrain from high-fiving herself for setting up all the plans. “Do you two need anything? I could bring over some dinner…”

"Oh, no ma’am!" the blond said indignantly. "Tell you what, Sally, why don’t you just take a night? Watch a movie, read a book, sleep, whatever. I’ll make sure he gets fed."

"Annabeth!"

She jumped as her father called her name from upstairs, bringing her out of her actress mindset. Ignoring the loud man, she pressed the phone closer to her ear as Sally started to talk again. “Sounds like he needs your help on something; I just heard him yell all the way from my side. I’ll probably finish off my book—it’s phenomenal, I’ll have to tell you about it tomorrow—then sleep. All that paperwork wore me out.”

"Annabeth! Where are you?" her dad called.

"I hope it’s relaxing," Annabeth replied politely. "Bye, Sally!" She hung up the phone and stood up. "Yeah, Dad?"

He stopped at the top of the stairs. “I just didn’t know where you were, is all.”

"Well, thank you for not knowing," she said, collapsing on the couch. "You made Sally believe Percy was actually here."

"What’s with all that? Why is he supposed to be here ‘studying’ and what have you?" the older man asked as he made his way down the stairs.

"He had to go somewhere today and he didn’t think Sally would approve. So, I’m his cover. We’re ‘studying.’" She provided air quotes around the word, sending him a sarcastic look.

"An honest man. Always a good attribute," her father grumbled as dialed a number on his phone, taking a seat next to her.

"He’s a good guy," Annabeth defended. "Just makes bad decisions at times. And this lie is for a good reason, anyways."

"What is he, a drug dealer?"

"No, Dad!" she denied quickly. "He’s in a band."

"Even worse," her father teased, sending her a tight grin. "I’m kidding. If you like the boy—"

"I don’t. I mean, I do, but he’s my friend. Not like that."

“If you did, it wouldn’t matter what he was. Band member or drug dealer. Well, maybe not the last one, but anyways—your decisions.” He shrugged, appeared to be tapping a number onto his phone screen as he read it from the paper in his lap. “I gotta make a few calls, I was just tired of being in my office…”

_That’s a first_ , she thought. “I was heading upstairs just now. See you tomorrow?” He nodded distractedly, already putting his phone up to his ear. “Night.”

"Night," he said after her. By the time she was at the top of the stairs, her father was jabbering away on the phone, asking questions and laughing at all the right moments. Her dad may have been socially inept at times, but he knew how to talk people into things.

Closing her door behind her, Annabeth glanced around her room, feeling boredom sink in once more. She could never read too much of  _Walden_  in one day; it became much too thoughtful and tedious, in a way. After brainstorming things to pass the time—watch paint dry, stare at the ceiling fan until she gets nauseous, take care of that small bug that had been sitting on her wall for days—she decided to reorganize her room.

Her desk had become messy over the weeks, between juggling two AP courses and two more potential dual enrollment courses she was signing up for—not to mention all of the time she’d been dedicating to work and what she’d resulted to calling ‘Percy-time.’ Maybe they didn’t spend every waking moment together, but they hung out much more than tended to with any of her other friends. There was also the fact that, nine times out of ten, they usually spent hours together. He’d been throwing off her schedule, leaving her to stay up late and and wake up early in order to study enough for every quiz and exam tossed her way. (Sure, she could complain about it all she wanted, but Annabeth didn’t really mind waking up early and being tired. Percy-time was almost worth it in a way; she got music and admittedly cute smiles all in one.)

Organizing was one of those tasks that stabilized her. Most people, when they were angry or upset, would throw a few things and cry. Annabeth, on the other hand, brushed her teeth and organized her bedroom. Dental hygiene was another thing that made her calm down, oddly enough. Something about freshly brushed teeth made her feel like she could conquer the world and then some.

She managed to spend a full hour putting her organization skills to work. Then, she slid her laptop out from beneath her bed and placed it on her newly cleaned desk.

It wasn’t very often that Annabeth used the internet for anything other than researching projects and the occasional Facebook visit in moments of complete and total monotony. However, tonight was a special night. She had spent most of the day half-watching a movie and half-studying for her next exam that was weeks away. She didn’t have work until Tuesday. Basically, she didn’t have anything to look forward to, excluding Percy’s late night—or technically, early morning—arrival.

Annabeth went to a website called “Pandora,” since it was the one way to find new music she had heard about more than any other site. Then, as the screen told her to, she typed in artists she liked and made an account. It felt like one of those nights she wanted to spend listening to music, just like Percy was. (Except he was listening to livemusic, with the same bands and artists she was playing through her second-rate laptop speakers.)

After clicking play, she backed away from her laptop and fell onto her bed unceremoniously, blowing out a breath of air and watching the ceiling fan spin. It had never occurred to Annabeth how uneventful her life was without near-constant studying and work filling the spaces between. She sent Silena a text (surely she was out with Beckendorf on a Saturday night, but it was worth a try) asking her to go shopping with her the next time she got a moment. Her reply never came, and Annabeth accepted the fact that for the first time, maybe she didn’t need to be doing anything. Maybe it was okay to just lay back and breathe for a little.

Most of the music that played was by artists she recognized but songs she’d never heard. She ended up finding another band—[Cartel](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8r11joVaQ6Y)—that had a lot of good music. Annabeth felt like her father, cooping herself up in her room and going through song after song just like he went through file after file of scientific research.

One of her favorite things about music was the way she felt no pressure to like any certain song or band. She listened to it, and she either liked it or didn’t. There wasn’t anyone around her saying a distasteful “You like  _them_?” Sometimes there was Percy, but he never judged anyone on their music taste. His philosophy was simple: “Some people will like the music you don’t like, and some people will like the music you do like; but either way you both like music.”

He tended to have a passive view on almost everything when it didn’t regard people he cared about. That’s when Percy got violent. A flash of his anger towards the band, life itself, and a dreadful stepfather moved through her mind; clenched fists and eyes dark with some sort of dark fury that made her stomach twist. He almost became a whole different person when the people he loved were in any measure of danger.

Annabeth pulled out her phone as the screen lit up from the incoming call. “Hello?”

"It’s over," Percy said, and she heard loud whoops and yeahs in the background. "The last band just left mainstage."

"You called me so quick," she noted.

"Can’t wait to get home to you," he responded dryly, continuing their joking talk from that morning. "I was actually calling because my phone could die any second and I wanted you to know that we were—"

As if he were jinxed, the call cut off mid-sentence. She looked at the digital clock on her phone—9:26 PM. It was an estimated thirty minutes for them to get back to their car and make their way onto the road again. Then it would take two or three more hours for them to drive back from Sacramento, given that they stopped to eat and hit traffic in the city. Sally had been either reading or sleeping for the past hour; by this time she had hopefully slipped into unconsciousness and wouldn’t wake up until the next morning, awful as that sounded.

Nodding along to the [catchy song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fDQt4KLRT4M) playing—Paramore, she realized, as soon as she heard the distinct voice of Hayley Williams—Annabeth waited for the loud clicking of rocks being tossed at her window.

When it finally did come, she was probably thirty seconds away from resulting to taking a nap. It was past midnight, and he did say he’d been getting home late, but it didn’t stop her from being close to counting the threads in her bed sheets out of tedium.

Stretching to break herself out of a state of lethargy, Annabeth pushed the curtains aside and slid the window open. “Hey,” she said, loud enough to be heard but quiet so as to not wake the surely sleeping neighbors.

"Would you say no if I asked you to stay up a tiny bit later to talk to me?”

Rolling her eyes, Annabeth shut her window as a reply and pulled a jacket off one of the hooks by her bedroom door. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she scoped out the kitchen and the living room before pushing her front door open.

Percy was leaning against the wooden railing, fidgeting restlessly. “How was your day?” he asked, turning his back on her to watch the lifeless road.

"Boring. How was yours?"

"Definitely the best day of my life," Percy replied, smiling like crazy. "It’ll sound dumb, but the whole time… I just couldn’t stop thinking about how cool it would be to be on that stage. Warped Tour is huge, and I feel like playing there would make me feel like I made it.”

"I bet you will one day," Annabeth said simply, without a single pinch of doubt in her voice.  _And I’ll probably go to every concert_ , she added silently. Not because it was Percy, but more because she genuinely loved the music from The Handwriting. Percy was part of the appeal, though.

"I hope so," he agreed, giving her a small grin. It seemed more personal than the previous ones, almost like he was thanking her for no reason in particular. "How did everything go over with Mom?"

"Spun a few lies and it worked out fine. I didn’t know you didn’t like movies," she mentioned, sending him a glance before staring at the dark asphalt. "I told her that my dad talked you into watching one and she told me that you’d never actually been able to sit through a film."

"I’m a little ADHD. Most movies are boring anyways. What movie did I ‘watch’?" Percy questioned, adding quotations around the last word with his hands.

"October Sky."

"Summary?"

"It’s based on a true story. This guy Homer Hickam, despite his father’s wishes, takes an interest in rocketry."

"That sounds awful,” Percy stated, running his hands through his hair.

Annabeth shrugged. “It’s my dad’s favorite movie.” The black-haired teen nodded, leaning his face against the railing. “Tired?”

"A bit. More like my body’s dead and my mind is all over the place," he answered, sending her a weak smile. "Thank you for today."

"What’s that, the hundredth time?" He scowled at her and rubbed his eye, the perfect image of a petulant, sleepy child. "You’re welcome. You owe me."

Percy hummed, closing his eyes. She, unconsciously, used it to her advantage and watched him with pursed lips. Percy was just one of those people who wereinteresting to observe. His mannerisms never followed a pattern, almost like he didn’t have any specific personality type. He was a little bit of everything, which was one of the reasons she wanted to draw him. People with no definite character always made her itch to find a way to portray them within a picture. She figured that, with Percy, she wouldn’t be able to. She’d probably end up tossing colors at a canvas until it looked something like how he made her feel: angry and happy and confused all at once. It still didn’t stop her from wondering which colors she would use to recreate his eyes. “What do I owe you?”

"Your choice," Annabeth decided with a shrug, watching as the wind ruffled his hair. "You just owe me."

"I’ll write you a song."

"What would the lyrics be? ‘Thanks for lying to my mom; you’re a really good friend’?" she suggested, smiling as he laughed. There was something there, something that made her inexplicably happy when she made Percy laugh. It made her feel like she was winning at something, but she had yet to figure it out.

"No," he said, after a minute. "Probably something more like… ‘I feel like we know too much about each other, for having met just two weeks ago, but I’m glad it’s this way.’” Annabeth smiled a little, looking away from him and examining her toes. “Or maybe, ‘you’re really pretty and I should go home but I just like talking to you.’”

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes as she felt her face grow progressively warmer.

"Joking, Annabeth, don’t look too disgusted," he bantered, shouldering her. Percy chuckled, and she joined in, more than a little unnerved. Percy may have liked to make her blush for fun, but he probably had no clue how disconcerted she was beneath the surface. He had a way of rattling her bones, but not enough to make her lose her cool. Just enough to let her know that he could. Percy stared at her for a second, all lively green eyes and messy hair, until she gave him her best bitchy look. (It made him grin, too, because maybe she was trying to look bad on purpose, but she still managed to look cute.)

He glanced towards his home and Annabeth saw how tired he was in his posture. Just as she was about to suggest him heading home, Percy started talking. “I should, uh, go, maybe?”

She nodded. “You look enervated.”

"I’m going to pretend I know what that means," he told her with a smile. Looking away a second later, he took a deep breath. "Uh, so, night?"

"Night," she replied, smiling tightly.

The guitar player nodded and tapped a beat on the railing before stepping down the stairs (losing his balance twice and nearly losing his life the second time). He didn’t wave at her this time, something that she had become accustomed to when Percy left her home. He always seemed to wave after he said goodbye, like maybe he was trying to reassure himself that he was, indeed, leaving.

She waited until his dark, broad-shouldered figure disappeared into the Jackson residence before she entered her own. Closing the door behind her as quietly as possible, Annabeth nearly died of a heart attack when she heard her father speak. “How did the canoodling on the porch go?”

“Canoodling,” Annabeth repeated without expression, still trying to calm her nerves. “None of that occurred. He just said goodnight.”

“That was a long goodnight!” her father called as she hurried up the stairs.

Pausing on the middle of the staircase, the teenager turned and shot her dad a look. “What’s with all this protective dad stuff?”

He raised his hands, a white flag. “No protective dad stuff. Just curiosity about my daughter’s potentially changing relationship status.”

Annabeth turned her back, blushing a little. “No worries, Dad. It’s not changing.”

“I believe you,” he muttered to himself, hearing his daughter’s footsteps and soon after a door closing. He scowled through the window at the house next door, angry at himself for not going to the dinner when it had been offered. Maybe then, he would know a little more about the Jackson boy.

It wasn’t so much that his daughter was spending time with a boy; no, no, that wasn’t it at all. In fact, she could do with more time spent with friends as opposed to studying. One of his biggest fears was his daughter would turn out like him: a hermit and somewhat of an dreadful parent.

Sighing forlornly at his cup of black coffee, Frederick Chase wished that he could change his lifestyle. At this point, he had already began too many projects and started too much research to cut back the tiniest amount. Trying to waste time before he was forced back into his office for another long night of typing up e-mails, he examined the living room. It was filled with the same old television they’d had for many years, a couch that didn’t look so great with the color of the carpet, and, his favorite, the old record player that he and Athena used almost religiously.

As fate would have it, she was no longer by his side, taking the world by storm. He set his mug down; a little reminiscing never hurt anyone. Frederick approached the record player, running his hands over the classic wood and tapping the needle with his index finger. He never used it anymore; never played a single song through the old thing. He could remember Athena and himself sharing an office in their old home, the record player stuffed in the corner. He could remember both of them working home as researchers, Athena as a part time, unprofessional painter and art-gallery-enthusiast.

Some part of him felt sad about Annabeth having stopped painting. It was something that both his wife and his daughter both seemed to have an impeccable, natural-born talent for. It was a shame to see something go to waste, especially when he knew that Annabeth could change the world for the better. His daughter always held that sort of potential power, the same kind that used to rest in the depths of Athena’s eyes. Both women were strong and independent, and both held the ability to do something big; something that mattered and would alter the world for years to come.

Drawing his hand back from the device, as if it were burning him, Frederick felt his heart fall a few inches. Athena would have wished for him to be a better father to Annabeth, but working always seemed like a better idea than looking at the young daughter in his house who bore such an uncanny resemblance to his wife. The only thing Annabeth had gotten from him was the blond hair.

He returned to his cup of piping hot coffee and took a sip to steel himself. Reminiscing was fine indeed, but too much of any one thing was too much. He couldn’t let himself get carried away into memories of Athena and their life together. It was short lived and beautiful, and while he often hoped for her back, he understood that he couldn’t change the hand of cards he’d been dealt.

_A bitter hand_ , he thought,  _one with almost all bad, unusable cards_. As much as he would love to wallow in self-pity, the man knew he had it well. After all, he could have lost his child, too; one of the only things he could bear to keep that reminded him of his deceased wife.

He shook the thoughts of Athena and replaced them with numbers and facts; things that were predictable and everlasting, neither of which she had been. He walked back up the stairs, his shoulders sinking further down and his face a bit heavier.

For the first time in months, Frederick Chase went to bed before 3 AM.


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention.

"’Mrs. Clarien has gone home early due to a minor illness. Please report to study hall, room F102,’" Annabeth read aloud, standing before her vacant history classroom. She always hated when teachers decided to go home early, often throwing off her carefully crafted schedule. Annabeth didn't have the slightest inkling where F102 was, and, ever prepared, she stepped off to the side and slid a map from the front sleeve of her binder.

Muttering the room name as she searched for it on the mapped out campus before her, Annabeth proceeded to scowl more and more as she realized the map was serving to only confuse her further. She had always known that McKinley High had a dreadfully puzzling layout—a fact that was proving itself truer and truer as the seconds ticked by and Annabeth’s dyslexia began to act up.

"Hey, Hot Blond," a smooth voice said from over her shoulder—close in the way that made her want to toss her elbow back and teach them a lesson.

Instead, she sighed and didn't even spare him a look. "Yes, good afternoon, Leo, now would you happen to know where—?"

"F102, study hall, is?"

She hated asking people for help, but she hated being lost even more. However, if she didn’t figure out where the room was, she would be late. Annabeth may have had some pride issues, but tardiness was unacceptable in her book. Plus, she wasn't really sacrificing pride. It was _Leo_ , after all: the kid who embarrassed himself at least twenty times a day. "Yeah."

"I'll walk ya there, seeing as I have that class myself. As does _loverboy_ ," he tossed out, walking a few steps down the hall. His hair practically bounced along with his cheerful footfalls. Leo walked like a cartoon character; exaggeratedly with swinging arms.

"Loverboy?" Annabeth questioned, fighting the urge to push back the students who were shoving into her. High school students were brutal when there was thirty seconds until the bell rang.

"Percy. Guy who you're 'BFFs' with," he answered, adding some sarcastic hand quotes in.

"BFFs?"

"I thought you were smart," Leo said with a smug grin. "All I'm getting is you repeating what I said back to me."

"I _am_ smart," Annabeth said defensively. "I'm just confused." She felt a bit of relief at the fact that Percy would be in her class; even if she was more of a loner, she despised having completely unfamiliar surroundings. It was disconcerting and heightened her stress. She and Percy had some details to work out about that Thursday, anyways, and she had hardly seen him since late Saturday night.

"Fear no more," Leo proclaimed, attracting stares from a few peeved teens as he threw his arms out dramatically. "This guy has brought you to your location, Ms. Hot Blond."

"Gee thanks," Annabeth deadpanned, hurrying inside the classroom before she could be considered tardy. The study hall teacher—who hardly paid enough attention to the class to realize a late student anyways—was slumped down in their chair and tapping away at a cell phone.

She sent him a disapproving look that he didn't see before casting her eyes around the room for a familiar mop of messy hair. "He's not here," Leo told her loudly, making her wince. "Hey, Mr... Guy, where's Percy?" The teacher glanced up disinterestedly, raising a brow. "Jackson? About this tall, green eyes, poor posture?"

"Haven't seen him," he said, rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath that Annabeth didn’t catch.

She considered reporting the teacher for his lack of professionalism and the carefree reaction to a missing student, but in the end she simply chose to sit at one of the tables in the middle of the room. Most kids were perched on the edges of their seats at computers, leaning over to talk to the people next to them or nearly having their foreheads touching the screen as they clicked away at websites. She observed them with somewhat of a detached feeling. _This_ was why she hated being in unfamiliar surroundings. Annabeth tended to feel even more out of place.

“He’ll probably be late to class,” Leo assured her, plopping down in the empty seat to her right. He kicked his feet up on the table and threaded his hands behind his head like he owned the classroom. Annabeth almost felt embarrassed to be sitting next to the boy with stunning amounts of audacity. "He usually is, anyways."

"Why's that?" she questioned, if only to keep from being rude. Leo had a way of ending every sentence like it was an inquiry, leaving you with the obligation to reply.

"Because he's a slacker. Doesn't care about a class where roll isn't even taken." Leo yawned and glanced around the room, waving to a girl in red who greeted him. "He would hurry if he knew you were here."

"Doubtful," the blond replied, watching the girl in red laugh loudly at a joke.

"He’d jog to China if it meant seeing you," Leo carried on. "The kid's freakin' ridiculous."

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Annabeth sighed loudly, already feeling annoyed with the boisterous, curly-haired boy. "It's not even possible to 'jog' to China. There's a huge body of water that prevents it.”

Leo laughed and shook his head, shooting double hand guns at another dark-haired girl in the corner of the room. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. Leo smirked. “Hot Blond, you’re missing my point.”

“My _name_ is Annabeth. I’m not ‘Hot Blond,’” she snapped, rolling her eyes. The kid was irking her; Percy had been right when he called Leo annoying. He was unnecessarily loud as though he’d wither away and die without everyone paying attention to him.

“Percy argues otherwise,” he said, shrugging. “He usually says it... _nicer_ , though.” Annabeth ignored him, pulling out a notebook to skim through her notes for an excuse to not continue the conversation. “For example, he calls you ‘pretty’ and ‘cute.’ He doesn’t really like the word ‘hot,’ I think. He refuses to put it in lyrics unless referring to temperature.”

Annabeth stared at her notes for a few seconds longer, feeling Leo smile smugly beside her, before she sighed and gave into her curiosity. “When did he say that?” Annabeth asked, pursing her lips and already regretting the question.

“Yesterday,” the boy said, his voice unctuous as though he knew she would give in. She gripped a few pages of her notebook tightly. “At band practice. He also mentioned you a lot at Warped. I mean, he was texting you nonstop. Smiling, too.” Annabeth narrowed her eyes, sizing Leo up. He seemed like the type that didn’t have the slightest bit of a conscience when it came to lying.

“Cool,” she replied warily, deciding not to trust him. The blond tucked her hair behind her ear and turned the page in her notebook, paying close attention to the diagrams she had copied from the textbook. Her teacher was big on wanting them to label molecules when taking chemistry tests.

“Also told us he was working on a few songs,” Leo muttered.

“That’s great,” Annabeth half-heartedly enthused.

“There’s one called _My Weakness_.”

“Even greater,” she said, sending him a sarcastic smile. “Do you mind? I’m studying.”

“I’m just saying,” Leo told her, throwing his hands up in a defensive manner. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Percy never gets this inspired unless a girl’s involved.” Annabeth pressed a hand to her temple and stared adamantly at the blue-lined paper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stirring up some sort of drama between Percy and herself. “You’re the only girl he’s been around lately.”

“Please just stop talking,” Annabeth lashed out. “I don’t care, alright?”

“About what?” Percy questioned, making her turn around quickly. He slouched into the seat on her left, dropping his textbook on the table inattentively. “Hey, Annabeth. Why’re you in here?”

“How long have you been there?”

“Why? Talking about me?” he teased, reaching behind her head to fist-bump Leo. Percy turned his attention to her once more. “Did you switch into this class or something?”

“No, they just told my class to come here. My teacher went home early.”

“Oh, cool, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Thursday—”

“Thursday?” Leo intervened, raising two eyebrows. They slipped beneath his curls.

“Yeah, I invited Annabeth to the concert. On Thursday. She’s been _dying_ to see us again,” Percy said, shouldering her and laughing. “She’s my cover. Again.”

“Still say you should tell Sally,” Annabeth grumbled, trying not to think about the way he remained close to her. Not quite touching her shoulder and not quite pulling away; almost like he was unsure of what he wanted and what Annabeth’s limits were. She decided not to look at him.

“No use,” Percy answered, leaning back into his chair and searching for his phone in his pocket. “Anyways, what are we ‘doing’ tomorrow?”

“This is your lie. You make the plans.”

Percy pouted. “You always make the plans. You’re good at that.”

“I would love to stay and watch this _obnoxious_ lovefest, but Hannah’s giving me bedroom eyes, which is something that must be addressed. Good day.” Leo stood up and didn’t bother shuffling his chair underneath the table as he sauntered over to the girl in red.

“Lovefest,” Annabeth repeated dumbly.

“Leo’s interesting,” Percy said, giving a vague gesture. “The thing is, he flirts so often that he thinks _talking_ to someone is considered flirting. That’s why he called our conversation a lovefest. Could have been worse, if you ask me. We should have done the whole _‘no,_ you _hang up_ ’ bit.”

Annabeth chuckled and watched Leo lean up against the board, cooly. “Why’s he such a flirt? Any backstory?”

The green-eyed boy hummed thoughtfully, tapping his hand on the top of his text book. A few weeks ago, that noise would have made her want to slit the throat of the person causing it, but she had become so accustomed to Percy’s absentminded tapping that it hardly broke through her subconscious anymore. “I think he was just so tired of putting himself out there only to get shot down. If you’re a flirt, you can’t technically get shot down, seeing as your attention is always on _several_ girls as opposed to one.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Percy smiled softly. “Not really. I think every boy goes through that middle school phase where they think they’re a ladies’ man, but other than that, I have a pretty clean slate.” _Damn_ , Annabeth thought, refraining from scowling. _That rules out the ‘major flirt’ suggestion_. “I am, however, devilishly charming.”

“Oh, yeah, I noticed.” Her tone was flat and Percy grinned.

“It’s the dimple,” he continued, tapping his left cheek. “And I’ve been told I have ‘kind eyes,’ whatever that means.”

“Full of yourself today, aren’t you?”

“Just repeating what’s once been said,” Percy relented, still smiling at her. She scowled at the dimple that appeared on his face—small as it was, the dent multiplied his charm by at least a hundred. “Anyways, so for tomorrow… I was thinking we could tell Mom that we’re going to a party.”

“Me?” Annabeth shook her head. “She won’t buy it. I don’t do parties.”

“ _Ugh_ , you ruin everything,” Percy said through a yawn. “What about the movies?”

“You don’t like movies. And I think we did that last time, did we not?”

“Studying?”

“From 6 P.M. to 12 A.M.?”

“Bowling?”

She nodded slowly. “That could work. We could say that we had dinner with my dad before we headed out to take another hour off the time.”

“We can always say that we decided to go see a movie, too,” Percy suggested. “And maybe we went back to Axe or Nico’s place to listen to some music and have some friend time.”

“Sounds good. Text your mom this time, though? She mentioned how you weren’t answering her last time; I think it made her antsy.”

“Will do. Think your dad’ll believe—”

“He’s in on it, by the way. I told him about how you were a deceitful delinquent who bullied me into lying for you.”

“That’s only half true!” Percy yelled indignantly. “Why did you tell him that? I wanted him to like me.”

“Redeem yourself. Impress him.” He opened his mouth, presumably to ask ‘ _how in God’s name do I do that?’_ , but Leo decided to return from his journey to Hannah in red.

“She wants me,” Leo said nonchalantly, sliding back into his seat. Percy laughed until his face turned red and Annabeth rolled her eyes at both of them.

“So, we’re all good with the plan?” the blond said, hoping to get some confirmation from the boy whose laughter was finally ceasing.

Percy nodded, leaning forward to make eye contact with Leo—who was leaning back in his chair once more—as he sparked up a conversation about the band. Annabeth felt like an obstruction between the two, who were carrying on with band talk that she didn’t have a part in. Percy had to lean forward even further as Leo teetered dangerously on two legs of the chair. “I can move, if you want? That way you can talk easier,” Annabeth interjected.

“No,” Percy said immediately, his eyes very green. He almost looked somewhat hurt at the prospect of her moving. “I like where you are.” The guitar player placed a hand over her arm on the table and squeezed it lightly before using the same hand to shove his hair away from his face, nodding along with what Leo was suggesting.

Annabeth focused on not blushing and ignoring Leo’s growing, manic grin as Percy continued to mutter about the times and everyone’s schedules, trying to work out the kink in their plans. They came to the conclusion that they would simply discuss it with Axe, who was, after all, the leader of the band. Percy turned the topic onto Rockfest, occasionally saying a few words in an attempt to involve her in the conversation, but Leo overpowered both of them each and every time. She didn’t consider his lack of awareness of other’s speaking as rude; Annabeth simply thought that Leo was having his own conversations with himself. So much that, when the time came to talk, he simply blurted it out without thinking about anyone else.

By the time the bell rang, Annabeth was almost happy. Her last class of the day had felt years long, between Percy’s hands always lingering close to hers and Leo’s clamorous attempts at getting attention from anyone who would give it.

Annabeth had always heard about things days being impossibly long and seconds feeling like hours when you anticipated something, but it had been a while since she’d had that feeling. It was Wednesday night, the eve of The Handwriting's big show at Rockfest, when Annabeth realized that there was no way in hell she'd be getting any semblance of sleep.

She considered texting Percy and asking him if he was experiencing restlessness too, but she got distracted. Annabeth’s mind drifted to the moment carefully filed under _things not to think about—_ the one from study hall a few days prior, where she had been sandwiched between two boys who were leaning past her in order to talk. She remembered a warm hand on her arm, gripping her tightly in reassurance that he didn’t want her to go anywhere. It was something that _should_ have been easily forgotten, but nothing was ever forgotten with Annabeth—especially when that something was tied to Percy. If held at gunpoint, she could probably recite every word he’d uttered.

 _No, I like where you are._ The words seem to have emblazoned themselves into her mind, weighing heavily on her. Annabeth knew she wasn’t hated, necessarily, but it was different to have someone who _wanted_ her there. She usually felt like she was in the way.

Annabeth pressed her face into her pillow, tapping her hands on the soft bedspread and thinking. She thought about grabbing a flashlight and wandering down to the basement to grab some decent drawing paper. She thought about searching through the boxes of art supplies for her favorite charcoal pencils. She thought about spreading the paper over her desk and sketching the moment—finding a way to capture the warmth of Percy’s hand and the way the moment made her feel. She thought about how she would close her eyes and remember the way his hand looked on her arm; how she would start drawing the lines of their wrists and arms. She thought about how she would shade it darkly around the edges to show her initial apprehension, then smooth it out where the skin touched to show the lightness of it all.

Annabeth was to the point that she could see it so clearly in her mind, she expected to feel the paper beneath her hands. She felt almost disappointed when it was only a lavender bedsheet with a stain from where she had spilt coffee a few days back.

Her phone buzzed a few minutes later.

> **From:** Percy Jackson
> 
> go to sleep. i can hear you thinking from over here

She frowned at her phone as she read it, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of being right. Annabeth locked her screen and turned to her other side, letting her eyes flutter shut.

**\--**

“So, you won’t be coming home today, right?”

Her father was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a second cup of coffee. He had been up for an hour or two before her, and usually by this time he’s knee deep in work. Annabeth usually didn’t see her father in the mornings.

“I will,” she told him, pulling out a glass for the carton of orange juice in her hand. “But only for an hour or two. Then Percy and I are leaving.”

“Right,” her father said, raising an eyebrow. “ _‘Bowling.’_ ”

She rolled her eyes at his tone, admittedly a bit fondly. Her dad was so awful at trying to be a dad. “And maybe a movie. I think we’re having dinner with you, too. Don’t worry, he’ll have me back before midnight."

"Can I, ah, meet this fellow?"

Annabeth pushed the orange juice back in the fridge, a bit more aggressively than necessary. She took three sips of her drink before she replied. “Do you... want to?” Her dad shrugged and nodded, his hair flopping over his forehead. “Okay, I’ll let him know.” She sent him a tight smile and decided her orange juice could be sipped from the confines of her bedroom as she got ready.

Annabeth waited until she was in her car and about to back out of the driveway to text Percy.

> **To: Percy**
> 
> My dad wants to meet you. Don’t look like a street thug. Minimal eyeliner.

She laughed a bit at her own message, pressing send and starting the drive to school. The day, thankfully, passed quicker than the night had. At least Annabeth had goals—get to class, finish this worksheet, write down the homework, report to next class. She saw Axe in the hallway as she was rushing off to her Chemistry class, and he smiled and waved at her like they were old friends.

It had hardly occurred to Annabeth that she had never given Axe much attention. He was cute—though Percy definitely stole the award of most mesmeric member of The Handwriting—and his hair had a streak of red that was starting to look more like orange. He, out of all the boys, looked the most like he was in a punk band. As far as she could recall, she had never even interacted with Axe. She just knew bits and pieces about him from Percy’s ramblings and her own silent observation.

In Chemistry, which was thankfully her last class of the day, they were simply reviewing the previous night's homework and going through more examples. Mrs. Clarien was back and well, and, blessedly, just as easy of a teacher as she’d been for weeks. Annabeth decided that she could afford to let her mind wander on the notes she was taking, which left her writing lyrics in her best cursive in the margins of her paper. After writing those became tedious, she started writing bands down, challenging herself a little and attempting to show the mood of their music through the small drawing of their name.

It was things like this that kept Annabeth at bay. She wouldn’t paint again, but she could scribble absentmindedly on the lined paper she took her notes on. It was enough.

(It was enough, but it was never _enough_. Annabeth’s hands missed the way a brush felt in her hand. Annabeth’s eyes missed the way a fresh painting looked. Annabeth’s nose missed the scent of watercolors and the way the outside air would take the odors away when she pushed the window open. Annabeth’s mind missed the relaxation; the way she let herself breathe when she painted. Almost everything about Annabeth missed it, and even Annabeth did at times. However, spite never went away in her world. She hated painting because painting _was_ her mother in all ways—it comforted her, like a mother should, it helped her mature over the years, like a mother should—and it was all too painful and unpromising to work with. There was no use wasting her time on something that she would hardly get money for until she was dead and gone.)

Annabeth realized, just as she added one last swirl to “Handwriting,” that it didn’t look half bad. It hit her then, like several thousand freight trains, that she could help Percy’s band and allow herself a small indulgence in art. She could come up with a logo for them, maybe even an album cover if they asked her. Smiling a little to herself, Annabeth turned to the last page in her notebook and scrawled the idea down before flipping back to her notes and writing down the example on the board.

She almost died of relief when the bell rang, her heart only sinking the slightest bit when her teacher announced that there would be extra homework to ensure that they got the lesson down. _I’ll just have to do them in those two hours before we leave again,_ Annabeth decided. Maybe she could use it as an excuse to leave the room while Percy and her father had a ‘chat.’

Annabeth was already out the main doors and heading to her car when someone shouted her name. Sighing a little—and smiling a bit, too, though she’d swear that she didn’t—she stopped in her tracks and waited for Percy to catch up to her. “Yes?”

“So, are you excited?”

“No, I was rushing to my car for no reason,” Annabeth answered, swaying into him with her shoulder, like he always did with her. He grinned, ducked his chin, and slid his hands into his pockets. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I just... I mean, I got your text, and I was wondering what that was about?”

“My dad wanting to meet you? It’s not about anything. I told him I would be home for maybe two hours before leaving again and he said he wanted to meet you.” She shrugged and dropped her backpack off in her backseat. “It’s justified. We _have_ been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, I know,” Percy replied. “I’m just a little... nervous. Maybe.”

Annabeth snorted in laughter, regretting it when she realized how awful of a sound that was. She committed it to memory to never do it again. “Why?”

“I’m not good with parents. Especially dads. I don’t know how to make them like me,” he shared, leaning down and looking at her through the car window. “Any tips?”

“Minimal eyeliner,” Annabeth repeated, smiling more and more as Percy narrowed his eyes at her.

“Shut up,” he decided, glancing to the left before giving her a pleading look. “Annabeth, _please_. I want him to like me as much as my mom likes you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Percy’s face fell, and Annabeth hated him a little for that. He always showed his emotions just enough to make her feel like shit. “Just don’t be something you’re not, okay? Be honest with him. He already thinks you’re this hooligan liar with six drug rings and twelve mistresses.”

“Wait, what the fuck—?”

“Bye!” Annabeth said brightly, rolling her window up as she backed out of the parking space. Percy waved at her in the rearview mirror, something that distracted her so much that she nearly rammed the car in front of her. Luckily, he had turned away by the time she was slamming on the brakes.

**\--**

When Annabeth arrived home, her father was in his office. Percy wouldn’t be too far behind her, and, with that in mind, she swung her dad’s door open and gave him a smile. “Have you worked up your intimidating father act yet?”

Frederick Chase scowled and pulled his glasses off his face, rubbing his eyes. “Should I have?”

Annabeth only grinned, raising both her eyebrows. “He’ll be here in less than ten minutes.”

“You seem excited!” her dad called after her, exiting his office. She shrugged in reply. “Should I make him a cup of joe or something?”

“Ask him when he gets here. I have some homework to do before we leave,” Annabeth told him as she entered her bedroom. The teenage girl heard him call back a reply, something that was so faint through her door that she didn’t hear it. Tossing her backpack onto her bed, she pulled her chemistry book off the shelf and opened it up to the assigned page. Annabeth had forty questions that needed to be done in two hours, and that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part would be keeping Percy entertained while she worked.

They had decided yesterday that Percy would lounge around her house until it was time for them to leave. She’d been the one to offer up the idea—and _not_ because she hadn’t had very much bonding time with Percy lately, definitely no—and he had agreed before Annabeth had even gotten the full suggestion out. She knew how much he hated to be home in an empty house; Percy knew that Annabeth liked hanging out with him. It was two things that went without being said, as things tended to with them. They learned by watching each other.

Very rarely, she had to spell it out for him. Variations of _too much sugar in coffee is awful_ and _the color yellow is my least favorite_ , but never had Annabeth needed to explain her thoughts in depth to him. And when she did, it was to expel the words that lingered in her mind and send them off to someone else’s. He always understood what she said before she said it; knew what she meant before she rushed to clarify. It wasn’t so much that they were _close_ —however, they were, at least in her opinion—but there was something about their minds that worked on the same wavelength, regardless of Percy’s stunning lack of brain cells at times.

When the doorbell finally rang, Annabeth almost laughed. For one, Percy _never_ used the doorbell (he found throwing rocks at windows to be much more efficient), and for two, _this was going to be good_. After all, she had a clueless Percy who was probably wearing a stupid band t-shirt with a leather jacket that her father would raise an eyebrow at, and a dad who had never really needed to test his father skills on a boy. The result could be nothing except amusing, which had her smiling in anticipation. However, when she heard someone stomping up the stairs, Annabeth scowled.

Expecting it to be her father chickening out (“Annabeth, I decided I don’t want to meet him. I think I’ll go in my office now and never attempt to be ‘dad-ly’ again.”), she groaned a “what do you want?” as she felt a presence in her room.

“You aren’t making me do this alone.”

“Percy,” Annabeth said, tossing her pencil down and craning her neck to shoot him a look, “I have homework.”

“I have a dad to impress!” he said, quieting his voice a little. “Just go stand with me or something. You can bring your homework.” She gave him a blank stare until he walked further into her room, glancing around quickly. “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” she replied. Not a second later, Percy was pulling her arm out of it’s socket and threatening to drag her down the stairs if he needed to. She pushed his hand away and gave him an unamused look before haughtily snatching her work up, along with the textbook. “You’re being an idiot and I hate you,” Annabeth deadpanned. “I hate you with all the passion in my body.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Percy said, rolling his eyes. “You can yell at me later. Help me make your dad think I’m cool.”

“Why is this such a big deal?” Annabeth muttered, trudging down the stairs just to irritate him.

“Because,” he answered, resigned, as if it resolved every question in the world.

“Hey, Annabeth,” her dad said in amusement as she shoved Percy to sit down at the kitchen bar. “How’s the work?”

“Interrupted.” She sent Percy and look and he gave her pleading eyes, the sort of thing she couldn’t stand to look at. Annabeth cast her gaze down to her paper. “Go ahead. Get this father-and-daughter’s-friend-of-the-male-species-talk out of the way.”

Annabeth was too busy attempting to sink back into her work mindset to notice both of the fond looks sent her way. “Frederick Chase,” her dad said, thrusting a hand out. “I’ve heard a little about you.”

“She doesn’t talk about me?” Percy asked, apparently before he could stop himself. “Ouch.”

“Shut up,” Annabeth said simply, circling her answer to ensure neatness. She focused on her work while Percy and her dad shared a few facts about themselves and even talked about her like she wasn’t there at some point. Percy told him about his band, shortly, and her father told him what he did for work. The black-haired boy acted like he was interested, but Annabeth knew he was probably getting that glazed over look he always did when someone talked about something that went right over his head. (He usually got that look around her, too; sometimes Annabeth thought that Percy just didn’t have the attention span to hold a conversation.)

About ten minutes in, Percy made her father laugh, and Annabeth knew he had nailed it. Her father was someone who was hard to impress and even harder to humor. After a hearty clap to Percy’s shoulder, he disappeared back up the stairs and into his office. Percy sat next to Annabeth and dropped his head on the counter repeatedly.

She waited until he was probably close to brain damage before she pulled him upright by his hair. It was soft, like she’d always thought it would be, but much too knotted for her to even attempt to run her fingers through it (and she wanted to. A little. Or something. Maybe). “Ow,” he complained, sending her a look.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Annabeth reasoned, taking her hand from his hair. He slumped against the counter after that and leaned on his arms, staring at the fridge. She watched his eyelashes as he blinked a few times, her hand subconsciously fluttering with the movements she would use to put those lashes on a canvas. “You made him laugh.”

“Because I started blushing,” Percy grumbled, burying his face in his arms and sighing loudly.

“Why’s that?”

“He asked me if I was a virgin.”

Annabeth started laughing—the kind of laughter that never goes away because you keep thinking about what made you feel the need to do so in the first place. Percy groaned and shoved her, begging that she stopped laughing at him. “Oh my god,” she managed, still giggling (much to her dismay) in little bursts. “Oh my god. What did you tell him?”

“Yes?”

“Did you lie?”

“No,” Percy said with an eyeroll. Annabeth felt a surge of respect for the boy—he’d obviously had a few relationships, committed or noncommittal, and he was attractive enough that girls probably threw themselves at him. “It was still uncomfortable.”

“At least you got it out of the way,” she said with a shrug. “What if he would have asked you over family dinner?”

“That just made me nauseous,” Percy told her rubbing his forehead. “God, and Mom would probably go out and get me booklets on sex and buy me condoms and try to teach me about the birds and the bees again.”

“Again?” Annabeth asked, sending him an amused look as she wrote down her next problem and reread the directions.

“In the seventh grade, we were supposed to go to a seminar. I was absent from school because I was sick, but Mom felt it was necessary to give me the talk herself. It was awful, to say the least.”

“What’d she even say?” Annabeth tried to imagine the situation—Percy probably covering his face as he tended to do when embarrassed and Sally feeling just as mortified.

“Not much,” he started with a shrug. “‘Make sure you love them. Use a condom.’”

“That’s not _that_ bad,” the blond contended.

“Maybe,” Percy agreed. “But think about those words coming from my mother’s mouth.”

Annabeth smiled a little and racked her brain for the word she was searching for to answer number six. “I can see how that would be a little weird.”

He hummed in response and watched her work. She felt him glance from her paper to her a few times, but she decided it was best to leave those occurrences unspoken. After all, there had been a few times where he had caught her staring that he had the grace not to mention. “Hey, Annabeth?” he entreated with a cautious voice, after a few moments. She looked over to him because his voice was softer than she’d heard it in a long time—taking in the tone he only used when Percy spoke of things that hurt him.

“What’s wrong?” she drilled immediately, scanning his face as if she could read his expression at all. As much as Annabeth knew about him, as much as she could infer, she could never pinpoint how he felt through his face.

“I mean,” he said, averting his eyes, “I don’t want to cross any lines... but I was just wondering about your mom.”

“Oh,” Annabeth said, her hand stuttering over her paper. “Right. Yeah. What about her?” She took a deep breath—’Mom’ things were typically out of the question for her, but she could at least hear him out before she shut him out.

“How did she die?” Annabeth dropped her pencil as she heard the last word. She had known it was coming, too, but it was never any less shocking. Percy rushed to pick up the writing utensil and press it back into her palm. He kept his hands around hers for a moment, looking conflicted and somewhat anguished. “Hey, hey," Percy said soothingly, awkwardly reaching up to smooth her hair. "I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. You don’t have to answer me.” She felt his eyes roaming all over her face.

"I would love to," she said, a few minutes later, when air started entering her lungs properly once more, "but I don't think I'm ready for that." Annabeth saw him nod out of her peripherals and she felt him hold her hand a little tighter before letting it go.

"I'm sorry," Percy told her again. "I shouldn't have asked. It was rude."

"It was fine," she waved off. "Stop doing that stupid over-apologizing thing." He nodded, both of them lapsing into silence. Percy continued to watch her work, shifting almost every second. For some ridiculous reason, she started to feel guilty about her refusal to talk about her mother; after all, he shared secrets—ones that he worked hard to bury—with her. Here she was, not even able to share a simple fact: her mother’s cause of death. Percy leaned his head on his arms and she felt his gaze boring into the side of her head, laying the guilt on like mortar on bricks. Annabeth’s stomach turned uneasily; she felt selfish.

No, not _selfish._ That wasn’t the right word. She felt... indebted. As if she owed Percy something (in reality, she didn’t, not even a little). But there he was, with innocent green eyes and long lashes and a look that said he only wanted to help. "No one ever braided my hair," she blurted, pressing her hand to her forehead, already regretting her decision to speak. "All of my friends came to school with pretty, braided hair and I never got that." Her voice broke the slightest bit, and she felt foolish for complaining about something so trivial.

"Hey," Percy said softly, slowly reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. He couldn't seem to meet her eyes as he squeezed her shoulder, which Annabeth found ironic, seeing as he was the one who'd asked to hear. He blew out a breath of air and moved his barstool closer to her so he could lean on her shoulder. It felt backwards, since Annabeth was the one letting out confessions. Shouldn’t he be offering _his_ shoulder for her to cry on?

However, the tactic worked. Annabeth felt better just by Percy being closer; his calm air made her breathe easier and swallow the dry spot in her throat that would have soon yielded tears. He latched onto her arm, just below her elbow, and hummed quietly for a few minutes. Annabeth had trouble focusing on her work. Eventually, she just let her pencil drop and accepted the fact that she wouldn’t be able to get anything done so long as Percy was that close to her.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he mumbled against her shoulder, “no one braided my hair either.”

Annabeth’s throat felt dry again as she gave a laugh that was half sadness and half affection for the boy that never stopped trying to cheer everyone up. (Everyone besides himself, but Annabeth was starting to think that maybe that could be her job, at least for a little while.) “It helps. I’m sorry for complaining about the state of my hair when I was little, of all things to mourn.”

He pulled back and stared at her for a second, recognizing the strained tone to her voice. He remembered the same thing resounding in his when he couldn’t help his mother. Percy set his lips into a hard line, his brow drawn as he pushed a few tears off her face.

Annabeth almost scowled when she realized that she was _crying_ in front of someone—maybe it was just one or two tears, but _still_. She tried to access the part of her brain that triggered her emotions, but Percy’s gentle touch on her cheekbones was overriding everything. (It was quite annoying, really, so much that Annabeth _did_ scowl.) Deciding that she was too exhausted to deal with the mistake of letting the (minuscule, barely there) waterworks run, she took hold of both his wrists softly and smiled in reassurance as she let him have his hands back. Then, he narrowed his eyes in determination and said “I’m going to braid your hair. Right now.”

So, Percy did. He went on his phone and found a tutorial on how to braid hair—some girl with an annoying voice and rather awful way of explaining the steps—and he worked on creating a braid as she finished off her Chemistry work. It was probably the worst braid Annabeth had ever seen, full of knots and strands gone awry, not to mention that it was quite a few years past elementary school, but she still smiled for a full ten minutes. The gesture in itself told her something else about Percy—he saw other people’s happiness before his own, as long as they weren’t in danger. (Annabeth decided she would keep him around for a while. Her father always told her that one man with compassion was better than an army of men without it.)

She finished her homework right as Percy invaded her kitchen for something to eat. “Why is there so much healthy food?” he groaned, pushing the fruit in the fridge out of the way, only to find—more fruit.

“You’re in the wrong place.” She gathered up her books and started up the staircase. He watched her go for a moment before she said, “Follow me, you idiot.”

Percy laughed a little, just because he was glad he met Annabeth. He was glad they were where they were and he was glad she’d be going to another one of his concerts that night. He trudged up the stairs after her. “Is there gonna be food in here?”

“Minifridge,” Annabeth told him, gesturing vaguely to a corner, soon after pointing to her dresser. “Top right drawer. Snacks.”

Percy swung the small fridge open as she put her completed homework in her backpack. He pulled open the drawer and turned to her. “Annabeth Chase, marry me.”

She laughed put her textbook on the bookshelf next to her window. “For my food?”

“Exactly,” Percy said, choosing a Capri Sun. “I can pull the ‘what’s mine is yours’ card.” Annabeth smiled and grabbed a water for herself, as well as a pack of Zebra Cakes. “You are a goddess among women. You are the light of my life.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes as Percy decided her desk chair was the best seat in the house. He spun around idly as he sipped his drink, looking so much like a child that she had to double take. “So... tonight?”

“What about it?” Percy asked, using his feet to bring him to a stop, facing her.

“What exactly will be happening?” Annabeth questioned, leaning against her headboard and fidgeting with the pillow in her lap. “I know that you guys have your concert, but are we leaving right after?”

“We’re staying for a while," he informed her, smiling a little. "Looks like I'm getting my wish of going to concerts with you."

Annabeth rolled her eyes to shrug off the embarrassment that came hand in hand with attention. "I'm not that great."

" _Please._ " Percy laid his drained Capri Sun on the bed, along with an empty pack of Oreo's. "I'm going to teach you the ways of concerts."

"Meaning?"

"Lesson number one: scream the lyrics as loud as you want. The people who judge you are assholes," Percy started, smiling and holding up his index finger. "Two: you may fistpump. Encouraged, really. Copy the crowd. Clap when the band says to. Three: don't let people push you around. You'll end up in the back of the crowd. Which sucks."

He paused for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. "Is that all?" Annabeth asked.

"Four: do not leave my side." She rolled her eyes on reflex. "Hey, none of that. I'm serious. I'd hate for you to get lost."

"How sweet," she muttered. "I think I can manage."

"Can I use your laptop?" Annabeth glanced up to see Percy running his hands over the smooth silver of her MacBook.

"Go for it."

"Thank you!" Percy said gratefully, opening it slowly and waiting for it to start up. He glanced around the room again, and she watched him. "Purple walls," he mumbled, as though it were a scientific breakthrough.

"It was my favorite color when I painted them." She shrugged and retrieved _Walden_ from her bedside table, running her hands over the cover for something to keep her busy.

" _You_ painted them?"

"Mhm," Annabeth hummed absently.

"What else did you paint?"

She paused in her absent fondling of her most treasured book. "I'm sorry?"

Percy avoided her eyes again, turning back to her laptop. "You know, when you used to paint. What did you paint?"

"Things," Annabeth answered evasively.

"No people?"

"In a way. I would take certain features—eyelashes, collarbones, hands, ankles. Never a.full portrait, though. I could never make things fit the way I wanted."

"What else?" Percy pressed, glancing over his shoulder. "Sorry, I just... I want to know more about it."

Annabeth's heart fluttered stupidly; it was so rare that people genuinely took interest in her. "No, no, you're fine." Biting her lip, she glanced out her window. "I used to paint the view."

He looked in the same direction as her. "You mean... my house?"

"Kind of," Annabeth admitted, returning to her idle playing with the fringe of her pillow. "Sometimes I would pretend something else was there; you know, a pretty lake, a tall mountain. I painted a lot of things."

"I think I'd like to see. Someday," he hurriedly added, facing her. "Not trying to be presumptuous at all. It's your work and I understand not wanting to show it off. There's so many songs I've written that I refuse to show to anyone. I get that. Some things are just meant to be private. Definitely justifiable—”

“Breathe,” Annabeth suggested, laughing a little. “It’s fine. Someday, sure.” Percy smiled tightly and turned back to the laptop.

“Your iTunes is embarrassing,” he declared, a total of 30 seconds later. “I’m not sure we can be friends anymore. There’s literally 25 songs. Who _are_ you?”

“I told you. I didn’t really like music before you.” Annabeth stood and leaned on her desk, staring at the pitiful thing her computer called a music library.

“I’m glad I saved you from this,” he muttered, clicking on a song experimentally. “Elton John.”

“Talented musician.”

“No doubt,” Percy agreed, “but he’s one of the only artists you have. Where’s your culture?”

“It’s on all of the CDs you gave me,” Annabeth admitted, laughing. “My dad likes Elton John. Runs in the family, I guess.” The black haired boy pulled off his beanie, leaving his hair standing up in too many directions to count. Annabeth had to suppress the fond feeling that rose.

“Annabeth, we have exactly an hour and six minutes until we depart. Do you know what that means?” She raised an eyebrow in silent prompting. “I have one hour and six minutes to make this music library presentable. CDs,” he demanded, snapping his fingers and poking her side. “Go, go, go.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Annabeth grumbled, turning away and fetching the CDs from her dresser anyways.

“Kiss me.”

With a pleasant smile, she handed over the discs. “Fuck off.”

“You become more like me everyday!” Percy cooed, patting her face gently before setting his attention on her computer with finality. “How cute.”


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or any characters adopted from aforementioned series'. I do not claim any of the music or lyrics I mention. I also don't own the quote written by Henry David Thoreau, from his book "Walden."

By the time they arrived, the first concert of the night was in full swing.

Leo, exuberant as ever, jogged ahead of them and disappeared into the crowd. Annabeth surfed through the other boys’ facial expressions to see if they were the least bit concerned about their friend getting lost, but Axe seemed carefree and Percy merely offered a shrug. Nico was pulling up somewhere behind the stage to place their equipment trailer close by.

“This is [New Politics](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiYfzcEwQ9o%E2%80%8E),” Percy said, leaning down to speak in her ear, and Annabeth nodded with interest.

“They’re kind of hot,” she answered, after a few minutes of watching them, and Percy stared at her for two seconds before he burst out laughing— _honestly_ burst out laughing. As in, threw his head back and cackled so loud that a few people turned to look. Annabeth suppressed a surge of pride (and maybe a tiny, miniscule bit of fond) at making him laugh and smirked. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“No, no, I’m just not used to hearing you talk that way,” Percy clarified, saying it in her ear, again. It wasn’t all that necessary at the moment, seeing as New Politics was between songs, but Annabeth didn’t think about it. She didn’t think about it. Really. “It was funny coming from _your_ mouth.”

“‘Make sure you love them. Use a condom,’” Annabeth replied in a sugary-sweet tone, which made Percy laugh again. This time he slapped a hand over his mouth and glared at her.

“I told you that in confidence!” he whisper-yelled, making her smile a little. He cringed. “I will never get over how… _god awful_ that sounded coming from my mother.”

“Hey, stop that,” Axe said, using his hands to push Annabeth and Percy apart and moving to stand in between them. It was then that she realized they had been standing stupidly close—shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. “Stop with all that whispering and smiling. I might start feeling like the third wheel.”

Percy chuckled and shouldered Axe, saying a sweet, “Don’t get jealous, _baby_ ,” before nodding along to the song playing. Axe raised an eyebrow at Annabeth and followed Percy’s example. The blond tried not to get irritated at the fact that she wasn’t hearing all of Percy’s off-hand comments.

On the ride to Rockfest, Percy had formally introduced herself and Axe. They had conversed a few times when Leo wasn’t yelling over everyone, and Annabeth decided that he was a level-headed guy, despite the fact that he smoked at an alarming rate. She had learned that Axe had been trying to quit smoking for three months, after a unanimous vote within the band. She had learned that he lived with his mother but hardly saw her, since she spent the majority of her time at work. He liked his dad, who lived one town over, more than he liked his mother, but the custody went to her. His father went to school for music engineering, which easily explained why Axe seemed to be the most ‘punk band boy’ out of all four members; it was in his genes. She learned that he and Percy had been friends since kindergarden, arguably the closest pair out of the band. While they quarreled often, Annabeth could tell that it was in the same way a pair of siblings would fight. Axe, out of everyone in the band, seemed to be the most self-defined. He was content and simple without coming off as arrogant, as Percy did at times.

She knew that Percy’s arrogance was typically used for humor, and she often caught the undertone of his insecurities. Axe seemed as though he had battled all of his and won every brawl.

Annabeth jumped as someone tapped her shoulder. She craned her neck to see Percy leaning behind Axe and waving at her. Rolling her eyes, the girl, who was growing much too fond of the black-haired idiot, waved back. In the next intermission between Red Green Gold’s set list, Percy elbowed Axe in the side. “I miss Annabeth,” he complained loudly, frowning childishly.

“Are you serious,” the boy with red in his hair deadpanned. “I haven’t seen you hardly at all besides practice, and you miss _Annabeth_?” She peered at the two boys, wondering if they were going to start shoving each other. Percy’s face appeared apologetic, but Axe was smiling as he said something to his childhood best friend; something that Annabeth, sadly, couldn’t hear.

Whenever Axe moved from in between them, settling on Percy’s other side, Annabeth raised an eyebrow at the guitar player. He looked a little paler than usual; his eyes a little greener and his brow pinched. She nudged him with her shoulder. “You okay?” Annabeth asked, raising her eyebrows. Percy nodded. “Did he threaten you or something?”

“No, no,” the boy said, coughing into his hand. “I just think I need some water. I’ll be back in a second.”

On reflex, Annabeth grabbed his upper arm. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Do you… want me to come with you?” she questioned, having to shout a little over the crowds cheers. Percy smiled a little, shaking his head and squeezing her hand where it laid on his arm. He signaled that he would be right back and Annabeth stared after him for a moment before slapping Axe’s shoulder to gain attention. “What did you say to him?” she asked.

Axe looked around for Percy before he noticed that he had walked off. “Seriously?” Axe said, rolling his eyes and staring after their friend. “I can’t even believe this is my honest to God, real life.”

“What?” Annabeth asked, feeling like she was missing out on a secret. “What did you say?”

“Don’t worry about it.” She scowled, glaring a hole into the side of Axe’s head. He turned to her and smiled with amusement. “Watch the show.”

She wanted to yell _don’t tell me what to do_ , but instead she watched as the lead singer uncapped his bottle of water and showered the crowd in Aquafina.

\--

The following bands—which ranged from rasta-rock to post-hardcore—didn’t seem to hold Annabeth’s attention. Between watching the boys (Leo had pushed through the crowd to find them and Nico had arrived thirty minutes after Percy walked off) and fighting off her hunger, she didn’t have all that much of her time to offer.

When it had been just Percy and Axe, they had nodded along and crossed their arms, seemingly appreciating the music. When Leo wandered back to them, the impish boy had been so pumped that Percy and Axe had started to cheer along with him. By the time Nico had made his way through the crowd to stand beside them, the four boys were half-heartedly dancing with no ounce of coordination. It occurred to Annabeth that their group was never in their element unless they were together.

On three occasions, Percy had winked at her. On two occasions, he had slapped Leo on the back of his head for winking at Annabeth. And now, he was pulling on her arm impatiently and requesting that she went to get food with him.

It was nearing 8:30 P.M.—which was a half hour before The Handwriting went on—as they queued themselves for a vendor selling burgers and fries. Over by the food, the crowd wasn’t as loud and pronounced, seeing as indistinct sounds were coming from several stages around what Percy had taken to calling ‘the food court.’ They could hear each other without having to bend down or lean up to whisper directly into one another’s ear. “Having fun?” Annabeth asked.

“Tons,” Percy said, and he was telling the truth. Annabeth tried not to admire the way his eyes held more luster than they had in awhile.

“You really love this stuff, don’t you?” He raised his eyebrows in questioning. “As in, music. Like, all of it.” Her words lacked grace, but her pulse was still jumping sporadically from the thrills of the crowd.

Percy smiled, stepping forward as the line moved. He scuffed his left shoe on the ground and shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, it’s my life, you know?”

“I can tell,” Annabeth added, after a few seconds. “That you like it. Your eyes get all shiny, but not like you’re about to cry. It’s, um, sort of like you’re in wonder, or something. Like you can’t believe that you’re so lucky to be where you are. Or something.”

Percy pulled part of his bottom lip into his mouth and watched Annabeth silently, only looking away when he had to step forward. Then he turned back to her and smiled—a smile she had never seen on him before. It was small and gentle; lucent in a soft way. “Thanks,” he said, holding her gaze before he turned away, his demeanor almost bashful.

She almost replied with a standard ‘you’re welcome’, but the conversation had come to a pleasant stop. Annabeth decided to let him have the last word for once.

They didn’t speak as they stood in line, Percy still nodding along to the music subtly as he scanned the menu. “Should we order for them?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“They weren’t standing in line for ten minutes,” Annabeth said, by way of an answer. Percy smiled a little and expressed his agreement as they stepped up to the counter. He ordered smoothly, making conversation with the guy behind the counter. The employee seemed happy that someone was talking to him without saying ‘can I have a fork?’ or ‘where’s the ketchup?’ Annabeth stayed mostly quiet beside him, and not because she was shy or ‘above’ the worker. Truthfully, she was watching Percy as he listened to the man with such pure interest that it almost made her feel a little sick. Her friend seemed to have this utter adoration for people, which didn’t seem to fit well, since she had always assumed boys in punk bands were angry at the world.

Annabeth was so busy feeling a bit frustrated with the fact that Percy was such a good person that he ended up saying her name three times before she answered. He only laughed, because _of course_ , Percy wouldn’t call her out on staring at him. “You alright?”

“Perfect,” she answered, accepting the paper basket of fries he handed her. He placed her hamburger on top and nodded vaguely in the direction of a fence. She followed Percy when he started walking, and copied him when he sat down on the ground and leaned against the fence. “Isn’t there tables here?”

“Hm?” Percy asked, already taking a bit of his food. “Oh, yeah, they’re on the other side of the place we got our food from. Most of them looked full though, so I decided we could just relax over here. Plus, we’re closer to the music.”

Annabeth thought that over and nodded. “Good choice.” Percy smiled at her, leaning his shoulder against hers for a few seconds. She didn’t think about it.

“Having fun, then?” he asked, his foot swaying along to the song playing.

“Surprisingly, yes.” Percy nodded again, scratching his knee absently, and the question was leaving her mouth before she could properly think it over. “What did Axe say to you before you got water?”

The boy paused and pasted a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

“When we first got here. Axe got between us. You said you missed me—idiot, by the way, I’ve been meaning to call you an idiot for that.” Percy ducked his head as he grinned, and she pretended not to notice. “Seriously, though. What did he say to you before you left and got water?”

“I don’t remember,” Percy answered, after giving a five-second pause.

“Right.” Her irritation bled through her tone, and he shot her a weird look. “Of course you don’t.”

“I’m not lying.” The black-haired boy scowled down at her and shook his head. “Ugh.”

“What?” Annabeth questioned, pursing her lips.

“Nothing,” Percy snapped, just as quickly as she had.

“So, what? Are you mad at _me_ now?”

“A bit, yeah,” he responded, chewing angrily. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“Wow, what a big word.”

“Seriously?” Percy asked, shooting her a look. “Now you’re going to treat me like I’m dumb?”

“Never said that,” Annabeth replied sweetly. She knew she was being rude, but once Annabeth got started, she had trouble holding her tongue.

“Annabeth,” he deadpanned, “stop.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He turned and gave her a hard look, unwavering and furious. She stared right back, raising her eyebrows challengingly. His eyes wandered down her face, and she looked away when it occurred to her that he had glanced at her lips.

“Is it really that big of a deal? That I won’t tell you _one_ thing?” Percy asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s crazy.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t remember what he said.”

“Well, maybe I _do_ ,” he replied, sounding exasperated. “Am I allowed to keep something to myself? Is that okay with you? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t told you _everything_ since the day we met, or anything.”

“That’s not fair,” Annabeth answered sharply. “That’s not fair and you know it!”

“It’s not fair that you’re _demanding_ to know about something my friend said to me. I don’t ask you what your friends say to you.”

“I’m at least 85% sure that what he said pertained to me, and therefore, I have a right to know.” She set her food aside as her appetite waned. Her tone remained biting as she continued. “My friends don’t talk about you, so I don’t have anything _to_ tell you.”

“They probably don’t talk about me because you’ve neglected to even tell them that we’re _friends_ ,” Percy shot back. Annabeth glanced away guiltily, and he was silent for a second. “Wait,” he said slowly, a small amount of dread in his voice, “you really _haven’t_ told your friends about me?”

“Nothing to tell,” Annabeth enunciated, meeting his gaze. “Didn’t think I needed to.” He held her eyes with his, and she tried not to drown in the emotions she saw there. _No way I could ever paint those_ , her subconscious decided. Her hand clenched at the thought of painting, and suddenly, she felt angry. Percy made her feel like painting, and it made her livid. It was something she had made the conscious decision to stop, and yet he just stomped into her life and broke down that decision.

She watched as Percy’s cheeks slowly heated up—what from, she had no clue—but before she could tease him for it, he was standing up and walking away from her. He tossed his trash into the closest place for garbage and shoved his hands into his pockets before he purposefully headed for the crowd, where he would find the other boys.

Annabeth stared at the fries left in her basket, sighing deeply at the slightly soggy food. She looked in the direction that Percy had walked off in, but there were too many people for her to find him. It only took a minute of consideration before she pulled her phone out and dialed Silena’s number.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” Annabeth heard her giggle and pulled the phone away from her ear at the static. “What’s up?”

“I’m friends with Percy,” Annabeth said, pulling her knees up to her chest so she could rest her forehead on them. “Really good friends.”

“Percy? As in Jackson? As in—?”

“Yes,” the blond interjected, “he’s the one in the band.”

“Okay,” Silena said slowly. “That’s weird, I guess. Whatever. Are you guys dating or something?”

“Friends, I said friends,” Annabeth nearly squeaked. Her voice probably hit a new octave.

“Right.” Her best friend didn’t sound very convinced. “Why are you telling me this? Not that I don’t want to know. I’m just wondering…”

Annabeth rubbed her forehead and pinched the skin on the neck as a wake up call. “We sort of just. Fought. Kind of.”

“Charlie, stop. Give me a second.” She heard more rustling across the line and a door close.  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Annabeth thought about starting from the beginning, but there was too much to tell. Plus, she probably had about ten more minutes before Percy was on stage, so it was best that she saved the tale for another time. “It’s a long story,” Annabeth told her, “and I don’t have time to tell it all now. But the short version is that we tell each other close to everything, and he’s hiding something from me right now.”

“What’s he hiding?” Silena asked, seeming just as curious as Annabeth was frustrated.

“Something his friend said to him. And I’m sure it had to do with me. I didn’t hear what his friend said, but Percy looked a little pale and confused after he said what he did. So, I asked his friend what he said to Percy, but he didn’t give me an answer. Just a few minutes ago I asked Percy, and then we started arguing, and I’ve pissed him off.”

Silena must have heard the way Annabeth’s words started to slur together in slight panic. “Hey, hey, don’t worry about it. People always say things they don’t mean when they’re arguing. Just, um, what all did you say?”

“I’m not sure if I remember,” Annabeth replied, disposing of her trash and heading for the stage The Handwriting was playing at. It wasn’t the main stage, but there seemed to be a decent crowd of people who were wandering over for the next show. “I just—he found out that I hadn’t told my friends about him. And I—oh, Jesus, I fucked up,” Annabeth said, pressing the phone tighter against her ear. “Why didn’t I tell you guys? He tells everyone about me, I swear. And I didn’t even think to—”

“Annabeth,” Silena mitigated, “breathe.”

Annabeth sucked in a deep breath and glanced around at the people who were in the same crowd as her. She considered elbowing her way to the front, but she decided it wasn’t the best idea. Especially if Percy wasn’t there to protect her. “What do I do?” Annabeth questioned quietly, not sure if Silena could hear her through the static.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I”—Annabeth shook her head, that seemed too simple—”don’t think that’ll cut it this time. Percy’s really hurt. Oh, god.”

“Stop stressing!” Silena said quickly. “Don’t worry about it! Just talk to him when you can and explain yourself, if you have a reason. And if you don’t, then tell him that. Be honest. That’s why me and Charlie work, you know? We tell each other the truth, even if it’s not all that pretty.” Annabeth nodded, humming her agreement down the line.

Percy stepped out on stage then, lugging some piece of equipment and smiling at the whistles from a few girls. He waved charmingly and grabbed the hand of one girl who was reaching out before glancing at the rest of the crowd. Annabeth was closer to the back, having unconsciously moved to the left, knowing that Percy occupied the left side of the stage. He saw her and his smile almost dropped, but instead he turned away and helped Leo hook something up.

“Percy’s pissed,” Annabeth said quickly into the phone. “Oh, my god, he’s so pissed at me.”

“Where are you? There’s so much static, I can hardly—” Silena’s voice cut out and the blond’s heart sank as she realized the call had been dropped, all thanks to her stunning lack of service.

“Great,” she muttered to herself. “What the hell do I do now?”

“Um, excuse me,” someone said to her left. Annabeth turned to see a girl—probably a year or so younger than her. “I just, um, overheard you on the phone. I’m so sorry! That’s probably so rude. But, do you… do you know them?” The girl gestured to the stage, biting her bottom lip.

“Oh… The Handwriting?” Annabeth asked. The girl nodded. “Yeah, uh. Yeah. You like them?”

“I saw them at a bar show a few weeks ago.” The girl was shorter than Annabeth by a whole head, and she seemed much more confident now that she had uttered her initial question. “Were you there?”

“Depends,” she answered. “Was it the one at Barry’s?”

The girl’s eyes brightened. “I knew I remembered you! Percy pointed at you and said that you were his ‘alibi’, whatever that means! I’m Kayla,” she said quickly, shaking Annabeth’s hand. “I feel like you’re just as much as celebrity as them, wow. Are you and Percy dating? Is Axe nice? Is Nico always so—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Annabeth said with a laugh, blushing a bit at the attention. “Um, Percy and I are just friends.”

“Really,” Kayla deadpanned. “That’s unconvincing.”

“Why?” Annabeth felt like scowling.

“Because,” the girl said brightly. “He keeps looking over here in intervals of, oh, three seconds. Not to mention he’s been _crazy_ happy at every show for, like, the past three weeks. Which is around the first time you appeared at his show.”

“Wow, you must be a big fan,” Annabeth muttered, glancing to the stage. Percy met her eyes for a few seconds before sharply looking away.

“Huge,” Kayla grinned. “They’re my favorite band, at the moment.”

“I’ll let him know. He’d really love to hear that,” Annabeth said, smiling at the girl gently. She looked back to the stage, watching the boys check all of their equipment. “Actually, we were planning on hanging out for an hour or two after. Maybe you can meet them.”

Kayla’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Wait—really?”

“Yep,” Annabeth affirmed. “I’ll even introduce you, if you want.” Kayla ambushed Annabeth in a hug, saying a litany of ‘thank yous’ and ‘you’re the bests’. She laughed and pursed her lips as Percy sent her a glare, as if she wasn’t allowed to smile when they were fighting.

The next time he glanced at her, she mouthed ‘good luck’, and Percy stared at her without emotion before waving at a girl trying to get his attention. Annabeth had known that The Handwriting had it’s fanbase, but she wasn’t sure if the people here were long-time fans or just hearing about them. From what she had heard in the crowd, she assumed that most of them hadn’t heard of Percy’s band.

Percy looked at her again as Axe started speaking to the audience, and Annabeth injected some sort of apology into her face. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, and Percy appeared pained before he looked away. She groaned under her breath.

The Handwriting played the best show she had seen all night.

\--

As their set came to a close, Axe shook out his sweaty hair, making a few people laugh and one person whistle. He raised his eyebrows, laughing, and said, “Thanks, guys!” Before giving a standard goodbye and repeating the name of his band three times. “Don’t forget about us,” he said with a smile. “Also—and usually I don’t do this part, Percy does—we wanted to say thanks to our… Well, I don’t really know what she is, but thank you Annabeth Chase!” The crowd cheered, half of them drunk and the other half excited. “She’s over there,” Axe continued, pointing to Annabeth. She waved and probably blushed, sending a smile to Axe. When she looked at Percy, he was scowling at her. Then he turned to Axe, holding the same glare.

“Shit,” Kayla breathed. “Holy shit. Did you see that?”

“What?” Annabeth asked, drawing her gaze away from Percy. “What happened?”

“Percy, holy shit!” Kayla seemed almost giddy. “Are you _sure_ you guys aren’t dating?”

“Positive,” the blond attested. “Why?”

“Like,” Kayla started, gesturing with her hands. “Axe smiled at you, and you smiled back, then Percy got pissed. Like, he was glaring at Axe for looking at you. _Ohmygod_.”

“Are you alright?” Annabeth asked, wondering if the girl had hit her head. “Me and Percy are kind of in the middle of an argument. I’m sure it was just that.”

Kayla didn’t seem swayed. “I’m pretty sure he’s jealous.”

“Doubtful.” Kayla, who had her hair dyed a few different colors and a shirt that said ‘I wish I was with the band’, raised an eyebrow at that. When Annabeth looked back to the stage, the boys were moving their equipment. Percy tossed a few of his leftover guitar picks at the crowd and Nico did the same. “Let’s go find them.”

“I’m not so sure I want to be in the middle of this,” the younger girl said, regardless of the fact that she hurried to walk next to Annabeth.

“There’s nothing to be in the middle of,” the blond pointed out, heading for the closest break in the fence that lined the stages. “They’ll probably head through here.”

“Cool,” Kayla said, running her hands through her hair. “Do you think they could take a picture with me? I mean, if not, that’s fine, but I just—”

“Trust me, they will,” Annabeth said confidently, smiling at the nervous girl. She thought about how she would feel meeting This Century or The Summer Set, which were her two favorite bands, excluding The Handwriting. “Look, there’s Nico,” she continued, pointing to where they were loading up the trailer again.

“Oh,” Kayla said breezily. “Okay.”

“Who’s your favorite?” Annabeth questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Nico. Sucker for drummers,” the girl replied with an impish grin. “Yours?”

“I’m biased,” she evaded, grinning as Leo approached them. “Slacker,” Annabeth called. “Why aren’t you helping them?”

“I’ve done my part,” Leo explained shortly, glancing at Kayla. "Hey, there." He winked and stuck out his hand. "I'm Leo."

"I know," Kayla replied airily, making Leo raise his eyebrows. "I just—I really love you guys."

Leo's grin was manic. "Thank you! I’ll be right back."

As soon as he jogged off, Annabeth smiled. "Told you they would be thrilled." She watched as Percy and Axe secured the trailer doors. Leo was speaking to them and Nico, surely, but he was out of Annabeth's view. The four boys took a few minutes to make their way over to Annabeth and her new friend, and Kayla gripped Annabeth's elbow when they stepped through the gate. "Hi," the blond greeted, feeling oddly proud when Leo stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. Nico hugged her quickly as well, even though they hadn't spoke all that much. It still filled her with a feeling of acceptance, and Annabeth realized she had a bit of a family with the four boys.

Axe stepped up and hugged her, and Annabeth grumbled about how she was _so_ tired of being embarrassed an concerts, which made him laugh. He had been in the middle of pulling back when Percy not-so-inconspicuously elbowed him.

She raised her eyebrows at Percy, nearly frowning at the hurt expression he was trying to suppress. Slowly, Annabeth opened her arms and bit into her bottom lip. He stared at her, calculatingly, before Leo rolled his eyes and shoved Percy into her. Annabeth apologized softly while she gripped his shoulders and Percy nodded, his chin digging into the juncture between her neck and her shoulder. "I told my friends about you," she said, a second later, and Annabeth thought she was hallucinating when she felt warm lips against her neck, placing a discreet kiss there. He mumbled his thanks into her skin and, _yep_ , she had to be hallucinating.

After Percy pulled back, Annabeth noticed that a good amount of tension had left his shoulders. He smiled at her for a second, sighing loudly. "I don't like fighting with you," he decided, pulling on one of her curls. Annabeth swallowed, her mouth still dry from Percy's maybe-kiss. "Let's not do that again, yeah?"

"Yeah," Annabeth agreed. "For the record, we probably will." Percy laughed, tracing his thumb over her cheekbone.

"Yeah."

Belatedly, Annabeth realized that Kayla was no longer steadying herself on her elbow. The blond peered around Percy and watched as the girl smiled and took a picture with Axe. "Introduce me?" Percy tapped her shoulder, nodding towards the girl.

Annabeth grinned a little, nearly having to _physically_ push down the urge to kiss his cheek. She grabbed Percy's forearm and pulled him towards Kayla. "This is Percy," she announced.

"I know," Kayla blurted, blushing a little. "I mean—" She squeaked a little as Nico walked toward them, tucking his phone into his pocket as though he had just ended a call. "Oh, god," she continued, making the three boys and Annabeth laugh. Nico moved into the circle they were making, unknowingly standing right next to Kayla. "You're cute," she said quickly, covering her mouth and blushing.

Nico turned to her in shock. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm so sorry," Kayla said, rushing her words. "I, um, you're my... Favorite. Out of the..." She trailed off and gestured to the other boys.

"Oh," Nico said, starting to blush slowly. "Oh, um, thank you."

"Why don't you two take a picture?" Leo suggested, still holding Kayla's phone. He raised it a little, winking at the apprehensive girl.

"Sure," Nico agreed, managing his embarrassment quite well as he tossed his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. Kayla's eyes widened and Annabeth chuckled, jumping when Percy said a "how rude" in her ear.

"I am not rude," she answered, turning and shooting him a look.

"You just laughed at a nervous fan."

"I'm laughing _with_ her," Annabeth amended.

"Hate to break it to you, but she looks closer to crying." Percy laughed as soon as the statement was out, glancing over to the pair as Kayla shyly asked for a hug. Annabeth smiled and (accidentally, unconsciously) leaned into Percy and let him drape his arm across her shoulder.

"Can I get a picture with you two?" Kayla asked, smiling at Annabeth and Percy, frowning a moment after. "Sorry, I feel like the paparazzi or something."

Percy sent her a charming smile, shaking his head. "No, you're fine, babe."

" _Babe_ ," Axe repeated, rolling his eyes. "Oh, god, you reek of _soon-to-be-media's-favorite_. Look at that smile. The dimple. The eyes."

"You're sounding a bit like Percy's _your_ favorite," Kayla said, showing her wit. Percy burst out laughing in the way that was becoming Annabeth's favorite laugh, and she couldn't help but to smile up at him. Kayla ducked under his arm and Leo counted down until he took the picture.

The girl with the multi-colored hair rushed over to see how the images turned out and Leo said something quietly to her as she looked down at the picture. She smiled brightly and nodded before thanking all of the boys and excusing herself, saying a separate goodbye to Annabeth. It was safe to say that she felt a little disappointed at her new friend leaving.

"Hey, so..." Percy started, sounding purposeful and determined before he trailed off aimlessly. "I yelled at you. Kind of."

"I yelled back," Annabeth dismissed. Percy nodded, the corners of his lips turned down as he dropped his gaze. Poking his stomach until he laughed, the blond grinned at him. "Hey, at least you didn't break my hand this time."

"I never broke it to begin with. And, at that time, the anger wasn't directed towards you."

Annabeth swallowed the lump in her throat, leaning back on her heels as Percy shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry for pressuring you about what Axe said. It's none of my business." He continued to watch her as she glanced everywhere besides him. Every bone in her body told her not to apologize, but she couldn't let her stubbornness cause a rift between a friendship—one that was starting to matter a lot more than she would have liked to admit.

"It was about you," Percy said, scratching the back of his neck and petting his own hair. "For the record."

"Right, well..." Her voice faded out as she realized that Nico, Axe, and Leo were no longer talking amongst themselves. "Percy?"

"Hm?"

"Are they watching us?"

His eyes flickered from her face to just over her shoulder before he smirked. "Yeah. They all just turned away when I looked. Now they're all swinging their arms in an attempt to look casual. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Magnificent." He looked back to her with a forlorn sigh. "I need new friends."

"They're a bit more like family, don't you think?" Annabeth questioned, cocking her head to the side.

Percy looked over her shoulder again, his expression softening a bit. "Yeah, probably."

"Guys!" Leo called. "If you're done standing really close to each other and smiling, can we get food?"

"Shut up," Percy said under his breath, at the exact same time Annabeth replied with a, "Shut up, and sure, why not?" He smiled at her, reaching up to touch his thumb in the same place he had kissed her neck.

"You're kind of really great," Percy said simply, unabashed and affectionate. "I'm happy I got the nerve to make you cover for me that first time."

Annabeth looked away and attempted to bite back her smile, but judging by the way Percy's eyes crinkled, she doesn't think it was all that successful. "Let's go," she said decidedly.

Percy squeezed her shoulder before stepping past her and pushing his hands into his front pockets. Annabeth tried not to smile after him.

\--

It was an hour and a half before midnight when they piled into the black car. Axe said he would man the truck hitched to the equipment trailer, against Nico's request. Nico was the youngest out of the four, talented on the drums, and close to passing out from exhaustion by the time they reached the car.

Axe fist-bumped all the guys and patted Annabeth's shoulder before he left. He made her promise to come to the next concert, and she replied that she would disown them as her favorite band if any member embarrassed her ever again. Axe was smiling when he walked off, twirling the keys to the truck around his finger.

When Annabeth looked back to Percy, he was staring at a light green Altima and clenching his jaw. "You okay?"

Percy started and looked down at her, as if he hadn't even known she was there. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

"You look tense. Your jaw is doing that clenchy boy thing."

"You have a way with words, Annabeth," he answered sarcastically, smiling to make sure she knew he was joking.

"Seriously," Annabeth repeated, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine, _Mom_."

"Hey," Leo interrupted, rolling his eyes, "can we go or are you going to keep arguing like a married couple?"

Percy and Annabeth both shot him a dirty look before getting in the car. Leo reached for the passenger seat door, but Percy just laughed. "Leo, you and I both know that you're not sitting there."

"Well then," the loud boy said, affronted, "who is Percy _Loverboy_ Jackson?"

"Annabeth," Annabeth herself announced. "Obviously."

"See, I don't like that," Leo said, even as he complied and settled into the backseat. "You two just gang up on people."

"Shut up," Nico voiced loudly, directed at everyone. "Turn on the radio and shut up, at least until I'm asleep."

Percy turned and smiled at the sixteen year-old boy, ruffling his hair and making Nico whine childishly. "Goodnight, _baby boy_ ," Leo teased, poking Nico's shoulder.

"Shut the fuck up," Nico deadpanned, leaning his head on the window, still scowling. The scowl smoothed out the longer they drove, and soon enough, Nico was asleep.

Leo, for once calm, seemed to be texting someone. Percy had his eyes on the road as he hummed along quietly to the Marianas Trench song. Annabeth alternated between looking out the window and watching Percy's hands tap out beats on the wheel.

The ride home, in a word, was peaceful. It felt like the kind of ride home from a vacation, or a road trip; everyone was in their own little world, but it felt content. _A very blue and lavender feeling,_ Annabeth noted, painting something with just those colors in her mind. It was soft shades of watercolor with a bit of everything that happened that night: a set of scowling brows here, a crowd there, a stage right in the middle of all the madness.

When they stopped in front of her house—the second to last stop—Percy shut off the engine and started to get out, but Annabeth pressed his shoulder back into the seat. "I can walk myself," she assured him, eyebrows raising in amusement.

"That very well may be," Percy answered, leveling his gaze with hers, "but I am a gentleman and I'd rather walk you."

"Fine," Annabeth relented, "but I'm pretty sure you're just trying to suck up to my dad."

Sighing loudly, Percy got out of the car, meeting Annabeth at the front since she opened her door by herself. "I would have gotten that," he told her, glancing over.

"You didn't need to," Annabeth replied, feeling a little exasperated. "Seriously. I can mostly handle myself."

"I'll just pick up the slack when you can't, then," Percy said firmly, as though he were taking it on as his full responsibility.

"Or I'll figure it out myself," she offered. He shrugged, looking away from her and eyeing the angry cat across the street. "Percy?" Annabeth asked, before she was fully aware of what she was asking. He turned back to her, leaning one shoulder on her doorframe. "Did you kiss me? When we hugged?"

He froze before rolling his shoulders. "Maybe," Percy answered simply, letting his eyes fall to her neck. He knew precisely where he had kissed her too: right over the freckle that he had decided was his favorite. "Yeah," he decided, "I did."

Annabeth hadn't expected to get such a straight answer. "Right, well... Why?"

Percy stared at her for a long time, before he slowly said, "I think I just wanted to." The blond looked down and up again before nodding silently, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"And when your show was ending," she continued, acquiring a smug tone, "you were jealous of Axe, weren't you?"

Percy looked away this time, crossing his arms and staring at her slowly chipping front door. "A little. It's justified." He blew out a long breath of air, leaning his head against the door frame and smiling a little. "I mean, he was getting all of your attention. What _ever_ would I do without that?"

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at the deflection—Percy was using sarcasm to avoid answering the question—but decided not to press it. It didn’t turn out well last time. "You get jealous easily, then."

"Protective of my friends," Percy told her with a shrug.

"Axe and I are _both_ your friends," she pointed out.

The black-haired boy looked back towards the cat, rubbing his hands over his face. "Right. Well."

Annabeth smiled. "Is that a confession or a disagreement?" She watched as Percy turned back to the door, picking at the chipped paint. Then she laughed as he shrugged.

"Don't laugh at me," he grumbled, covering his face. Annabeth almost scoffed; one person should not be permitted to hold such a n extensive amount of cuteness.

"I'm not," she responded in the same tone, reaching up to pull his wrists from his face. He blinked grumpily at her.

"I'm too tired to outwit you," Percy decided, staring down at her. He fought against Annabeth's grip until he had control of his left hand again, reaching out to press his thumb against the freckle again, sighing heavily. "Thanks for going tonight," he said a few seconds later, running his thumb over the dark spot on her skin. "It was fun."

"Sorry we argued," Annabeth apologized again, hesitating twice before she tried to find the same spot on Percy's neck. He smiled down at her before biting it back.

"The first fight had to happen eventually," Percy commented, shrugging his left shoulder. "No worries."

Annabeth pressed her thumb into his skin and thought about how lovely it would look on a canvas; the soft lines of his neck and jaw with her fingerprints claiming the spot as hers. The moment seemed possessive in a way that Annabeth had never felt. She felt like, maybe, in that moment, she sort of belonged to Percy. And maybe he belonged to her a little bit, even after a few short weeks.

Annabeth does not believe in soul mates. But she does believe that some people can click—just as simple as that; just like her mother and father did. And after they click, they never leave each other. They stay physically or in the form of faded memories.

"I have to go inside before I die of exhaustion. And it's five minutes to midnight,” Annabeth spoke into the silence.

Percy grinned, singing the chorus of a song Annabeth didn't know. "Boys Like Girls," he said, raising his eyebrows. She shrugged, and Percy’s eyes widened like he was in pain. "Annabeth!"

"Sorry," she said through a laugh, leaning up to hug him. She moved her thumb from his neck and carefully pressed her lips against the same spot. Percy was warm, somewhat unnaturally warm, but she brushed it off as herself simply being cold. Annabeth thought Percy may have hummed contentedly as her lips touched his neck—either that, or the cat across the street was purring loudly. "Bye."

"Bye," Percy said, rubbing her back gently before stepping back. "See you later?"

"Obviously. I'm the ‘something’ to the band, aren't I?" He smiled, shaking his head. "Night."

"Yeah, night." He stumbled down her steps like usual and waved again as he reached the halfway point between their houses. Annabeth slipped inside after his second wave and leaned her back against the door before hurrying up the steps and stepping inside her dad's office.

He wasn't in there, which made her raise a curious brow before she backtracked to his room down the hallway. When she pushed the door open, she saw her father lying face down on the mattress, his glasses still on and his hand hanging off the side of the bed, holding a book. Smiling at the sight, and happy that her father's insomnia was waning enough for him to go to sleep this early, she pulled his glasses off and placed them on his nightstand. Then she left the room, simple as that, and went to her own.

\--

A week and two days after Rockfest, Annabeth woke up on Saturday at the ridiculous time of 6 A.M., having barely 6 hours of sleep under her belt. She stumbled down the stairs to find something to eat, only to find a note taped to the fridge.

> _Emergency meeting in Frisco. Could be something big. Hope you had fun last night!_
> 
> _\- Dad_

She sleepily smiled at the note, wondering how long ago he had left. When the ink smudged under her fingers, she decided it would've had to have been minutes before. Annabeth made herself a pot of coffee, looking around the room carefully, unsure of what to do with all of the silence. She made herself a cup of the hot beverage, taking a scalding sip as she made her way back up the stairs.

Annabeth sat on her bed and flipped to a random page in _Walden_ , simply for something to do. And then. Well.

> _I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours._

Annabeth stared at the words, her eyes catching on _dreams_ and _success unexpected_ before she shakily set her coffee down, drawing in deep breaths as she wandered down the stairs. Then she stood in front of the door she hadn't touched in years: the door to the basement. The door that hid all of her canvases from her view and kept her easel safe until she needed it again. She stared at the wooden door, looming over her; intimidating her. She stared at the spherical, golden doorknob that gave her a warped reflection of herself.

Annabeth reached out, and pushed open the door.

\--

It took Annabeth forty-five minutes to drag her her easel up the stairs, pick a canvas, and pull out all of her old paints as well as brushes. By the time she had stolen a bar stool from the kitchen, the sun was starting to rise.

She stared at the off-white canvas before her and used an old rag that had been tucked away in her boxes to dust it off. Then, silently, she ran her fingers over it, her eyes prickling with tears for a million reasons. Half-heartedly hopeful, she looked at Percy's window, as if he would be sitting there, waiting for her signal to come over and hug her until the unshed tears stopped burning. Instead, all she saw were half-closed curtains and the reflection of the sun rising; a pale image of the clouds, diluted by the transparency of the window.

Annabeth's hands stumbled as she picked out the colors she needed, constantly glancing up and measuring the accuracy of her matching skills. She grabbed a cup that was paint stained and old, filling it up with tap water. Annabeth peered into her closet, changing into an old, white t-shirt from her first year of student council and a pair of shorts she didn't mind messing up. She primed her canvas from muscle memory, looking up to memorize the image she wanted in case it moved. Picking out a few different brushes and carefully deciding on one, Annabeth started to paint.

Her arm wasn't as steady as it used to be and the colors were a little dried out, but she could feel the tension pouring from her body. Years of tensed muscles and silent scowls as she reminded herself why she stopped painting escaped her. She detailed the look of Percy's window, trying her hardest to remember how she used to do reflections.

The sunrise had already come and gone when Annabeth branded the painting as finished, but the image was clear in her mind as she smoothed a hand over one of the corners, knowing that she still had a million details she could add. The painting was full of imperfections from her hands forgetting how to hold the brush or how much paint to use. There were so many things wrong with it, and yet, Annabeth decided it was her favorite yet.

She pulled out her old black marker and signed the bottom corner with her artist signature, which started out faded but grew darker. Annabeth made a mental note to buy another pen to sign with.

Sanding her hands on her shirt and pushing her bangs—which had escaped her careless bun— behind her ear, Annabeth stepped back to admire her work.

Just as a small smile slipped onto her face, someone knocked on the door. Annabeth, prepared to see some delivery man with a box of books her father ordered, almost stumbled back at the sight of a sleepy Percy.

"Hi," he greeted, rubbing his eyes. "So, apparently, your dad called my mom and told her he wouldn't be back tonight. I guess you aren't answering the phone. Anyways, she told me to invite you to..." Percy trailed off suddenly as he glanced up at her for the first time. "Is that... _Paint_ on your forehead?"

"Oh," Annabeth replied clumsily, touching her face. "I... Probably."

Percy's expression went from sleepy, to confused, to excited it under two seconds. "No way," he said, shaking his head, "no fucking way."

The blond gestured to her shirt, a satisfied smirk falling on her face. "Way."

"Oh my god," Percy said, pulling her in for a hug and fisting the back of collar of her shirt in his hand. "I'm so proud of you," he mumbled, squeezing her upper arm tightly with his other hand. "Why? What happened?"

Annabeth shook her head against his shoulder, pulling back enough to have access to his neck. She wanted to say a million reasons (because of _you_ , because of this boy who makes me forget why I stopped painting, because of music), but instead, she gently thumbed a certain place on his neck and said "I don't know."

Percy smiled a small, soft smile as he reached up to touch her neck as well. "I'm proud of you," he repeated.

"Thank you," Annabeth replied, roughly meaning: _thank you for living and existing and asking me to lie for you and showing me music and taking me to concerts and being sweet and keeping me grounded and reminding me of what I love because I think you're slowly making your way onto that list_.

\--

Breakfast with Sally and Percy was the happiest Annabeth had felt in years, still smelling the aroma of paints on her skin and her muscles loose with the feeling of her favorite stress reliever. Percy kept reaching up and holding his thumb against his neck, smiling when Annabeth repeated the action every time. Sally pretended not to glance between the two.

\--

Percy came over after breakfast and stared at her painting for ten minutes without a word. Annabeth was deeply concerned that she had broken him, but then he wordlessly reached out and held her hand, saying, "I'm proud of you," for the millionth time. Annabeth nodded and squeezed his hand.

\--

Her father came home the next day, having spent the night at a hotel in San Francisco, with a smile on his face a new set of 18 acrylic paints and brushes.

"Percy called me," her dad said, by way of explanation, holding them out to her. "Promise me you won't quit this time?"

Annabeth took them with a watery smile and hugged her father tight. "Promise."

"He also asked me if you could go to band practice with him in about"—her father glanced at his watch—"twenty minutes. I said yes." Annabeth grinned and nodded excitedly, pushing her hair out of her face and heading for the stairs to make herself presentable. "For the record, Annabeth," her father said, making her stop on the second stair, "I like him. And he seems pretty fond of you, I'd think."

\--

Percy greeted her with a hug and a childish giggle against her shoulder when she pressed her thumb against his pulse point. "It's a thing now," she told him. "I'm never going to stop doing it."

He nodded with bright eyes, copying the action onto Annabeth's skin before glancing over her shoulder and waving to her father with his free hand. "Hey, Mr. Chase."

"Have her back at a reasonable hour and then you can start calling me Frederick," he said in greeting. Annabeth turned and smiled at him before latching onto Percy's upper arm and pulling him down the stairs.

They both sang loudly to what Percy called his 'Party CD', which was chock full of upbeat music that was ridiculously fun to sing. Once they arrived at the practice house, Leo and Axe ambushed her in a hug while Nico waved, standing a few feet off with a phone pressed to his ear.

Axe started up a conversation with Annabeth, and she noticed that he seemed to be adopting her as his little sister, asking if he needed to beat anyone up, to which she replied, "Just Percy."

"Jackson!" Axe roared jokingly. "What have you done to our poor little Annabeth?"

Percy turned, confusion lacing his expression as he hesitantly touched his thumb to his neck. Annabeth rushed to do the same, showing that nothing was truly wrong. Both Leo and Axe glanced between the two of them. "What did I do?"

"Annabeth says I need to beat you up," Axe said, laughter in his tone as he got into Percy space and raised his fists. "Remember third grade? Fun times."

"You broke my collarbone when you tackled me," Percy deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Regardless, he landed a soft punch onto Axe's shoulder. "Still gotta get you back for that."

"Let's save that for later," Leo said loudly. "As in, when I have popcorn and a comfortable seat to watch from." Annabeth voiced her agreement and Leo reached out for a fist bump before tucking his hands underneath his shoulders.

"Alright, guys," Nico announced, heading back over. "My sister just offered us up to play at her friend's 18th birthday."

"When?" Annabeth asked, eagerly, before any of the boys.

Percy laughed and put an arm over her shoulder. "Excited, aren't you?"

"I'm a ‘something’; I have to know."

"I think we should get you one of those 'I'm with the band' t-shirts," Percy thought aloud, poking her collarbone with the hand resting on her shoulders. She pushed his hand away, smiling.

"More like 'I'm with the lead guitarist of the band'," Leo mumbled, not so quiet and discernable.

Percy shrugged his free shoulder and felt his eyes crinkle as he pinched Annabeth’s shoulder, causing her to squeak. He imitated the noise, much to Annabeth’s dismay. They started walking towards the house with the other boys as they began to talk about the details of the party, Percy dropping his arm from her shoulder and closing the door behind them.

"This is a confidential practice," Leo said, walking backwards in front of her. "You can't tell anyone about our unreleased music."

Percy spoke up from behind her. "You're literally the luckiest fan in the world. You get to watch us make the magic. As in music," he added, remembering the first time he had brought her to the house. She turned and send him a smile, laughing as Leo stumbled from walking backwards.

The boys talked about songs and played a few works in progress as Annabeth half-listened and half-sifted through the piles of lyrics. She figured that if they really wanted to, they could probably combine some of them into a full song. Annabeth snorted at ridiculous lyrics and set the one's with potential aside.

She had been so immersed in deciphering Percy's handwriting that she failed to notice that the four of them had huddled in the far corner, talking in hushed whispers. She raised her eyebrows but decided not to intervene. After a few minutes of Percy whisper-yelling and the other guys stifling laughs, they turned back to her.

"Annabeth," Leo sang, clapping his hands. "We would like to make you a potential offer, maybe."

"Because we aren't sure how long you plan on sticking around," Percy grumbled, looking the other way and saying something else under his breath.

Axe clapped him on the back. "But we all like you, so we figured we could at least ask."

"Okay," she said slowly, trying to catch Percy's eye. He glanced up, and Annabeth raised her eyebrows at him. He shrugged wordlessly. "Sure,” she continued, glancing back to Axe. Ask away. What's up?"

"We need a manager. Like, someone to take care of any money we make and keep track of the shows we play. And to, you know, follow us around for free. Which is cool," Leo said, shrugging.

"You don't _have_ to say yes, or anything," Axe added, lifting a shoulder, "but none of us are even remotely organized, and Percy says you're a planner, so..."

"Oh," Annabeth said, looking at Percy. "Whose idea was it?"

"Me and Leo," Axe said, smiling. "Percy wants you to. Pretty sure he's been thinking about offering it to you for a while, he just sucks at talking to girls."

"Hey," Percy warned, lowly.

"Um," Nico interjected, "and, I mean, my sister likes you, too. So, I don't mind."

"Your sister?" Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Bianca," he explained.

"Di Angelo!" the blond said triumphantly. "I see the resemblance." Nico smiled happily, and Annabeth made a mental note: Nico loves his sister. He pushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

Leo continued to rattle off some more of her potential responsibilities—”buying us waters at shows, talking us up to anyone important, advertising us to your friends, giving us massages”—nodding along when any of the other boys added things to the list. She shyly offered to work on a logo and any album covers they may need, and all of the boys agreed and praised her for such a good idea. "Sure," she said, a few minutes into their brainstorming, "sounds fun."

"Yay!" Leo cheered, stopping when none of the boys joined him.

Axe smiled nodded gratefully to her, Nico having the exact same reaction. Percy gave her a look—one that she didn't know how to read specifically, but it made her feel warm and happy.

“Welcome to The Handwriting,” Percy said slowly, pronouncing every word carefully, reaching up and pressing his thumb against the tan skin of his neck.


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Percy Jackson series or it's characters. I don't claim any of the lyrics or songs as my own. This is purely a fanfiction written for my own indulgence.

"What about this one?"

"No, no, the lines are off. It's not proportional and it's not right one. I just know."

"I like it well enough—"

"Well, yeah, maybe, but I can do better. I promise."

Percy turned to look at her, slightly exasperated and raising his eyebrow. He'd been flipping through Annabeth's sketchbook—she was much more liberal about letting him see her art now—and fawning over all the versions of a logo she had sketched for them. "Annabeth," Percy said slowly, "all of these are great. Don't stress yourself out."

"I'm not," Annabeth returned, rolling her eyes. "I just want to get it perfect. It's not everyday that I get to make a logo for my favorite band."

Percy pinched a sheet of thick paper between his thumb and index finger, smiling down at it. "Still your favorite, huh?"

Annabeth hummed her agreement, unable to miss the small, pleased grin on his lips. "They're all pretty hot, too. Especially that lead singer."

Percy looked like he had swallowed a whole bottle of lemon juice and an orange peel. "Right."

Laughing and pressing her face into his shoulder— _accidentally_ , she swore she didn’t remember telling her brain to do that—Annabeth teased, "Jealous." Percy shrugged his shoulders in hopes to push her off. "He's _so_ cute and his _voice_ and his _smile_ and—"

"Stop," Percy whined, rose dusting his cheeks. Annabeth grinned impishly and pushed her thumb against his cheek. "St _op_!"

"I'm joking," the artist said, unnecessarily.

"I don't care," the boy answered. "You only say it because you know it makes me mad."

"And why is that?" Annabeth had entreated on this area before, each and every time getting a sarcastic or irritated answer before the subject was changed. Now, Percy flipped through the book with less vigor and more resignation. She moved her hand to lay in the back of his neck, allowing her thumb to rest on the side, brushing the spot that had become intrinsic to their friendship. That in itself seemed like a contradiction, since neck kisses weren’t typically something friends did, but Annabeth had never considered Percy and herself to be conventional anyways. He let out a huge breath and turned the page. "Hello?"

"It's just—" Percy cut himself off, scratching behind his ear. "I mean... You get it? It's, like, you know. Yeah."

He looked to her, frowning a little, and she returned his gaze with a blank stare. "Insightful."

"Shut up." She heard a thump and assumed that Percy had just kicked his shoe off her bed. Another flat noise followed as he let the other one fall.

"My pillow's gonna smell like your feet," Annabeth muttered, wondering if she should have suggested they sprawl out on her floor rather than her bed.

"My feet smell like roses," Percy said blissfully with a soft smile, laying his head on her bedsheets. He looked sweet and sleepy, a few chunks of his hair having escaped the restraint of his beanie. Annabeth wanted to hit something to help push back the surge of affection.

"I think they smell a little more like avoiding the question."

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Percy," Annabeth said, shouldering him. "Tell me what's up."

He sent her a sideways glance, picking at her sheets as if it were the only thing that mattered. The light purple shouldn’t have looked as flattering as it did with his complexion, but it made his eyes look a hazy, pretty green. He fiddled with a corner of the book before him, eventually closing it with a sigh as he realized that Annabeth’s intent eyes weren’t looking away.

“What I mean is,” Percy started, after a moment of silence, his voice humorless, “you’re _my_ friend.” Annabeth raised her eyebrows in vain, seeing as he was adamantly not looking at her. He drew in another deep breath before speaking again. “As in, _mine_.”

She tried her hardest to make sure he didn’t get an inkling of the pleasure pooling in her stomach and fluttering all the way up to her chest. It wasn’t fair, honestly, that a simple, lowly spoken word from Percy could do that. “Oh,” Annabeth breathed out, hopefully not too quickly or belatedly. “Right.”

"I'm just possessive when it comes to friends," he continued, trying to deprive the moment of austerity. “Almost as selfish as I am when it comes to food.”

"The boys are your friends, too, though," Annabeth commented, even while her mind screamed _it's not the same it's not the same and you know it._ “You aren’t possessive of them.” _Shut up!_ she shouted inwardly, hating the way her brain-to-mouth filter always seemed to malfunction around Percy.

He stared at her openly with green eyes that made her feel a little on the transparent side. They weren’t judgemental or appreciative; neither approving nor disapproving. It just seemed as though he was staring, drinking her in and watching without thinking. It made the stupid flutter come back, but she refused to acknowledge the inner reaction. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

He finally looked away, opening the sketchbook and looking for the page he had left off on. Neither of them spoke until Percy admitted that he should head home. He didn’t offer up a hug or let his thumb brush against her skin, instead opting for a simple goodbye with a tight smile. It matched the restrained feeling in her chest with every step he took towards the door.

The air around her felt oddly flat, as if she wasn’t truly breathing in air, or breathing at all, really. By the time she opened her mouth to say something—and she didn’t know _what_ —Percy had already closed the door behind himself with a gentle thud.

\--

The thing is, Annabeth _loved_ managing the band.

As a renowned adorer of structure and plans, it was almost therapeutic to work out the dates on a calendar and keep track of any money they got. Since Annabeth had joined their crew, they'd been booking progressively more gigs, thanks to the fact that all of the boys _plus_ herself were on the lookout. It was easy to research the other local bands, contact them, and see if they wanted to join up with The Handwriting and score a small venue; the hard part was making sure all of the boys stayed calm preshow.

Percy was probably the worst about nerves—all wide eyes and barely audible mumbles of his worries. Nico was a lot better than him, still managing to clock in as the second most apprehensive performer. Leo was too confident and Axe was too comfortable to get more than a slight spell of pre-show anxiety.

They continued to book shows. Annabeth kept scrawling them into the planner she had bought. Percy didn’t stop smiling, Axe didn’t stop looking out for her, Leo didn’t stop being loud, and Nico didn’t stop checking his phone constantly.

And she loved every minute of it. There had only been two times Percy and herself had experienced a fallout—once at Rockfest and the second being their wordless argument that day in her bedroom. They’d hardly said two words to each other for three days before Annabeth cracked and texted Percy to come over the next moment he could, under the pretense of having designed the perfect logo. (She most definitely _hadn’t_ , and Percy didn’t really ask to see it, instead watching Annabeth doodle abstract images on a blank sheet.)

Three months into her job as a band manager, it occurred to Annabeth that they were the four closest friends she had ever had—above Silena, Piper, and Reyna, even. While she still made time to have nights out with her other friends, she could tell that the friendships were getting more and more strained. Silena was busy researching the best colleges for designing and keeping up with her relationship with Beckendorf. Piper was busy doing whatever obscure things she tended to do, and Reyna was throwing herself into sports, hoping for a decent scholarship. Annabeth realized that, while they were her friends, she didn’t know all that much about them. It was almost like they were the band of misfits, tossed together for solace rather than friendship.

It was the beginning stages of the drift away between high school and college. Friends fell apart as new ones fell into place. It was all very bittersweet; she knew that they knew it as well, but they still managed to grab lunch together or hit a movie every few weeks. Annabeth loved them all dearly, and she knew that she would try her hardest to keep in contact, but Percy and his band had been absorbing all of her time around schoolwork. Any time she _was_ free, the other girls weren’t, but the four of them understood in an unspoken way. It was as sad and tranquil.

The band, however, was anything but. They were becoming somewhat of a hit with the teenagers in town, even with a few young adults. Gigs were booked much faster than they used to be. More people knew the lyrics within the crowds.

The concerts, out of every perk there was to tagging along with the band, were her favorite benefit. While she couldn’t always attend, she was always invited. Every time she was forced to decline, Percy would always send her a series of frowny faces and text her up until the point that they went on stage. He had even taken a few pictures of the view from stage and sent them to her, adding a caption of “holy shit” or “wow” most times.

When she did make it to The Handwriting’s shows, Percy would constantly seek her out in the wings, waving when he caught her eye. Her favorite moments were the ones where he would slyly inch off the stage and clumsily hug her or thumb at her neck while he uttered a few ‘thank yous’. She never really knew what they were for, either, but they made her smile anyways. Axe would usually roll his eyes and comment on the interaction to the crowd, but it didn’t stop Percy from doing it, and that was that.

\--

On the day of Annabeth's Trig Exam—which was coincidentally on her four month anniversary as the Unofficial Manager of The Handwriting, as well as the last day of school—it happened upon her that she was a bit fond of the boy in the drivers’ seat. Fond, as in she wouldn’t mind holding his hand on occasion or pressing kisses to his neck rather than using her thumb to feel the skin there.

Annabeth had liked people before, sure, and every time she had gone through the big moment of realization: a gasp and a hand placed over her mouth to hide the smile, an “I like him” said aloud, a grin into thin air from pure happiness. But with Percy, it hardly felt important. She glanced over at him while he pulled his beanie down and shuffled through his Economics notes, and it occurred to her that the affection she felt for him wasn’t as friendly as it used to be. She wanted to feel his eyelashes brush her cheeks even when the rest of her body had gone numb in the winter. She wanted to paint his features with something close to adoration rather than the uninspired way she had taken to. She wanted to kiss him when he said stupid things and smile when he complimented her. She wanted a lot of things with Percy, but it was a gentle, simple insight.

He had turned to her just as she had comprehended it, smiling at the fact that he had caught her staring. “Can I help you?”

“Do you know Trig?”

“Yeah, you’re fucked then,” Percy said, not missing a beat. Annabeth snorted and skimmed through her notes one last time before pushing her binder into her backpack. “Giving up so soon?”

“The way I see it,” the blonde started, “there’s not really much I can do at this point. I either know it or I don’t.”

“Excellent,” Percy replied, thrusting a few pages into her hand. “Quiz me.”

Annabeth read off the first definition and waited for Percy to repeat back the term. He stared at his steering wheel harshly, his knuckles turning white with frustration. “I don’t know,” he said finally, dropping his head back against the seat. “I’m going to fail this course. I’m going to end up repeating high school.” He dropped his head to the wheel with a pathetic whine. “I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” Annabeth coached. “Okay, so you don’t know one term, but that doesn’t mean you’ll fail the whole test. I’ve done your homework with you everyday for, like, five months. You know this stuff.”

Percy stayed quiet, so Annabeth read off another definition. “Arbitrage?” he said hesitantly, turning to her.

Grinning, she nodded. “See?”

“Economics is hard.” Percy looked away before looking back at her and smiling. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Existing,” he said sweetly, knocking his forehead against hers lightly. “You’re great.”

“Thank you.” She wouldn’t mind more of this, too, from Percy.

“Another.” He backed out of her personal space and scratched behind his ear—which was _still_ an odd place to have an itch. Annabeth continued to read terms and definitions on the page, making sure to help him learn the ones he didn’t know. Economics was challenging, but it wasn’t as bad as other courses she had taken, anyways.

Covertly sneaking glances at his side profile while he thought over the most recent definition she had given him, Annabeth pursed her lips at the light hit his face. Percy was wearing an old hoodie and even older jeans; ones with holes in the knees. It was their final day of school, and, like Percy, Annabeth had disregarded all of her nice shirts, instead opting for a comfortable sweater.

Blinking, she watched Percy’s lips move, his eyebrows raising a second after. It took her a moment to realize that he had spoken. “I’m sorry? Didn’t hear that,” the studious blonde said quickly, glancing down at the paper.

“Wait,” Percy said, a smug sort of smile stretching across his face. “Were you checking me out?”

“Totally,” Annabeth answered breezily.

“Hey,” he returned, pouting a little. “I’m serious. I could use the ego boost.”

She rolled her eyes and pretended that she wasn’t close to smiling. “Just tell me what you said.”

Percy sighed, reaching over and snatching the papers from her hand before flinging them into the backseat. She watched the white, blue-lined paper sail into all corners of his car. “I hate studying,” Percy explained, barely sparing the mess a glance.

Annabeth snorted lightly, shifting in her seat. “You’ll do fine on the test with that attitude.”

“Less stress, more success.”

“Stress is healthy,” Annabeth countered. “To a certain extent, anyways.”

“And I’ve been stressing for a total of”—he looked at the time—”twenty minutes. Healthy.”

“Idiot.”

“This is why I need the ego boost!” Percy shouted, his smile underlying his angry tone. “You cut me down!”

“Hush, I’m mean to you with love,” she replied, reaching out and fixing his beanie. He leaned into her automatically, having learned that Annabeth was usually fixing his hair for the greater good. “There you go.” She patted his head lightly and Percy smiled. “Pretty as a picture.”

“Shut up.”

“You complain when I compliment you and complain when I do. What do you want from me, Jackson?” Annabeth asked, the end of her question coinciding with the ringing of the bell.

Percy narrowed his eyes at her before shoving his door open and grabbing a pencil from his backpack, leaving the heavy bag in his car. The sun made his eyes a lighter green that somehow made her shoulders feel heavier. Percy was devastatingly good-looking in a low-key way; he didn’t flaunt it, and if he did, it was jokingly. His hair was getting too long, often falling in front of his face, but that meant that he wore beanies more to confine it. It also meant that Percy looked soft and cuddly for the day, which Annabeth really didn't mind.

Coming to school separately before piling into one another’s car had become a thing. Usually, they huddled into Percy’s since he had better music. Walking into school together had also become something that occurred on a regular basis, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Annabeth’s friends. She had finally introduced Percy to them, and he’d charmed them right down to their toes, which was saying something. It took a lot to impress Reyna.

Percy and herself also walked from their fourth period together to meet the other boys at what they had claimed as their lunch table. That had become a thing. She took the boys home sometimes, if they needed rides, and Percy usually came over for a few minutes after school, if only to greet her father briefly. She typically visited the Jackson residence on the weekends, when Sally made breakfast.

Annabeth’s point is, a lot of things had become _things_. The bit where Percy walked her to class was one of them.

“Good luck,” he told her, smiling over Annabeth’s shoulder at her Trig teacher. On exam days, they went straight to their testing period rather than normal classes, which meant she was starting her day with math. “You’ll do fine. You’re smart and stuff.”

“Such grace with words,” Annabeth teased, smiling at his narrowed eyes. “Thanks. You’ll do great on the Econ test, I’m sure.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.” Percy spared her teacher another glance before touching his thumb to her neck. Annabeth reached up and did the same for him. “See you after?”

“As usual, yes. Go! You’re going to be late.”

“Right,” the green-eyed boy said, tugging at his beanie and ruining all of Annabeth’s hard work. Before she could chastise him, he had already started down the hall and rounded the corner.

“Goodmorning, Mrs. Berlinson,” Annabeth greeted her teacher.

“‘Morning, Annabeth,” the woman replied. “Ready for the test?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” the blond student answered with a shrug. Her teacher, who was no older than 35, surely, nodded in approval and moved on to say hello to the next kid who entered. Annabeth sat into her regular seat, digging through her backpack for a pencil and pulling in calming breaths as Mrs. Berlinson closed the door. She started passing out the tests, and a hush spread over the room. Annabeth saw fear in a few students eyes, but most had an expression that screamed _I don’t care anymore._

With the last song she had listened to playing on repeat in her mind, Annabeth looked down at the stapled test before her, and prayed to whatever god there was that she passed Trig.

\--

“Come on!” Percy shouted, the second Annabeth stepped out of her math class. He pulled on her wrist and dragged her around the corner, moving as quickly as he could through the throngs of students. He turned back and smiled at her—this _stupid_ , goofy thing—and she tightened her hold on her backpack with her hand that wasn’t in Percy’s grasp.

“Where are we going?” she called over the kids in the hallway.

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies!” Percy yelled back, giving Annabeth deja vu and squeezing through a door that was about to close. He held it open for her, still grasping her wrist, and pulled Annabeth towards the back field.

“No one ever goes out here,” Annabeth said, feeling slightly breathless from the impromptu exercise.

“They are today.” Percy faced her now, slowing his pace and walking backwards. “Last day of senior year, right?”

“Right,” Annabeth replied, slowly. “Why?”

“Going out with a bang, we are.” He pulled her around the last corner, giving her a view to a makeshift stage—if that. Their band equipment was set up on a white tarp, and the other three boys were running around and hooking things up, dragging long extension cords around.

“You guys are playing a show?” She inhaled sharply, watching Percy’s bright expression as he nodded. “Is it approved?”

“Kind of,” the guitarist replied, shrugging. “I mean, Mr. J approved.” Annabeth rolled her eyes, but her smile showed that she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. Mr. J was one of the two music teachers at their school; he had just finished college and he bore several tattoos under his button-ups, if legend held true. He was easily the most laidback teacher at school, usually opting for debating over which rock band was the best live rather than teaching kids how to play instruments. Most of the kids who signed up for his class already knew how to play something, anyways.

“Of course he agreed,” Annabeth said, tugging her wrist towards her body. “Hey, give me my hand?”

“What a sentence,” Percy answered, through a laugh, but he let go of her anyways. “Come on.”

As they approached the set-up, the other three boys called out their greetings. “Fancy seeing you here,” Axe called, pushing his hair out of his face. Annabeth watched as his bracelets shifted up his arm. “Percy refused to start without you.”

“Aw, darlin’,” Annabeth drawled, smiling up at Percy. He rolled his eyes and shoved her, but she just smiled more. “When do we start?”

“The bell for lunch rings in two minutes,” Leo announced, tapping his phone screen. “After lunch we go home. Mr. J said that he was all for telling the kids to get their lunch and head out this way.”

“Are you sure you won’t get expelled for this? You are aware that they can make sure you don’t walk at graduation,” Annabeth informed them.

They all sent her _looks_. “What do you take us for?” Axe questioned.

“Yeah, seriously,” Nico continued. “I mean, I still have another year here. I wouldn’t do something if it meant they would expel me.”

“Mr. J cleared it with the vice principal,” Percy finished, shrugging a smug shoulder. “She’s head over heels for him. A little flirting goes a long way.”

“You would know,” Leo commented, giving him and Annabeth a pointed look.

“Hey.” Percy drew out the word, making it sound like a warning. “Down boy.”

The keyboardist rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath that she didn’t catch. “Anyways, Mr. J made sure it was fine. So, technically, we can’t get in trouble. Hopefully.” Leo clapped his hands together and gestured to the amps. “I tried, Perce, but I’m not so sure I did all of that right. Nico’s not positive what your settings are.”

“Right, yeah, I got it.” Annabeth stood on the edge of the tarp, watching the four boys move around each other as if they’d been doing it for ages. Nico walked over to Percy, and Percy handed over guitar picks before the younger boy even asked. Axe turned to Leo, who nodded immediately and started altering his settings without Axe saying a word. _This_ was part of the reason Annabeth thought they were the best band around; they worked easily together, and even when arguing they were in sync.

By the time the first group of students wandered out on the lush null, Percy was both idly playing and nodding along to what Axe was telling him. Annabeth loved this—seeing this version of Percy; the rockstar with a few bracelets on his arms and a pair of Vans on his feet. He looked perfectly in his element, and Annabeth could picture Percy doing this for the rest of his life—playing guitar and charming every person who walked by.

He and Axe seemed to come to a conclusion at that point, and Axe gathered Nico and Leo together, repeating the information to them. Percy nodded her over. “What’s up?” she inquired, nodding to the group of three, speaking quietly.

Percy stopped playing, as if he couldn’t focus on Annabeth and guitar at once. “You know the setlist we’ve been using for the past six shows?” The blond nodded immediately; she had been included in the decision. “Axe wants to us to play mostly requests and two new songs, instead.”

“Now’s a good a time as any to test them out, right?” Percy agreed immediately, but Annabeth still sensed his apprehension. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” The boy trailed off, turning the small triangle around in his hands. Annabeth had her own guitar pick, one that Percy had slipped into her pocket after a particularly good show. She had been meaning to get it made into a necklace. “He wants to play the ones that I wrote,” Percy continued, finally.

“Don’t you usually write them?”

“Well, yeah,” Percy said, nodding at Axe’s call of ‘five minutes!’ “But the boys usually help spruce them up. These are _just_ my songs. They haven’t tampered with them yet.”

“You know you don’t have to play them if you don’t want to,” Annabeth assured him, lowly. “It’s your songs. You don’t have to share them.”

“I mean, I don’t mind _playing_ them,” Percy amended. “I would just rather certain people didn’t hear them. I guess.”

“They aren’t going to judge, Percy. It’s the last day of school. They’re happy to be doing something besides sitting in a cafeteria that smells like a nursery home.”

The corners of Percy’s lips lifted up and he huffed out a slight laugh. “Never made that connection. It does, though.” He glanced at the land before them, watching as more and more students took seats in the grass. “I agree with the requests, part, though. No need to bore them with our own music, right?”

“Your music is great,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to talk to Axe and make sure he checks with you before you play the new songs, okay?”

Percy continued to stare at the people he had been going to school with for years. Eventually he nodded. “Yeah,” he answered quietly, making Annabeth lean closer to hear them. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” Percy directed his attention back to her, hitting his jaw against her forehead. “No!” he cried dramatically, grabbing her face with both hands to kiss her forehead in apology. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Who am I? What day is it? Who are _you_?”

Annabeth shoved his shoulder, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Shut up. You barely hit me.”

“You’re right,” Percy said, heaving a sigh and smiling the slightest bit. “Just wanted an excuse to kiss you.” As if to prove his point, he dropped another kiss to her hair. “Thank you, you know? For, uh… you.” His hand drifted from the back of her head to her neck, where he scratched at her neck lightly with his thumb.

“Lovebirds, one minute!” Axe called from the other side of the tarp. Percy flicked him off without turning around and smiled at Annabeth’s serenely.

“Thank you, too,” she said, finally, pinching his hip. “Stop getting sentimental before I throw up.”

“God, I _love_ when you talk dirty,” Percy muttered back in a low, syrupy tone. Annabeth rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself and stepping back.

“Good luck,” she told him, smiling at his soft appearance. Annabeth decided that she really liked beanies as she approached Axe and told him to make sure he talked to Percy before the two new songs. Axe understood immediately, saying that he would, and Annabeth gave Percy a thumbs up.

Axe stepped up to the microphone a few seconds later, prompting the crowd with a “Last day of school!” and a triumphant fist in the air. Cheers rose up, and Annabeth knew he had them. Axe _always_ had the crowd; captivated them so easily in a way that added evidence to the fact that Axe was born to be on stage.

Annabeth sat herself near the back, but within Percy’s view. Two concerts ago, she had decided to see the view from the other side of the stage, and Percy had pouted at her for thirty minutes after the set, complaining about how he couldn’t find her. From that moment on, he suggested that she stay where he could see him, because, if he couldn’t, he would be off his game.

The weirdest part was, despite Annabeth’s epiphany that morning, she didn’t actively notice herself looking at Percy any differently. She still studied the curve of his eyelashes with interest and thought about running her fingers over his cheekbones, mapping out his face. She still loved his hugs, regardless of how much she claimed they annoyed her, and he was still one of her favorite people on earth. The only difference seemed to be that she was conscious of the way she couldn’t help glancing at his lips every so often. However, she felt oddly content with the whole experience, and Annabeth thought that maybe she’d been a little in love with him all along.

She caught his eye and smiled encouragingly, and he returned it with a bright grin and a thumb against his neck. It made her a lot happier than she was willing to admit.

The first request they got was “Teenage Dream”, which was luckily something they had covered before. It was performed without a hinge and most of the students sang along carelessly; shouting out of tune and waving fries in the air.

Two songs in, the principal walked out with the vice principal by his side. He studied the scene, a hard line between his brows and his lips pursed thin. Axe waved happily, acting as if nothing was wrong, and—much to everyone’s surprise—their principal cracked a smile. Annabeth grinned at that, turning to Percy and laughing along with him.

Axe dedicated their next song to the principal—a very heartfelt cover of “School’s Out”—and she could feel her peers develop a newfound respect for the strict man as he nodded along, seemingly resigned to the entire event.

While Axe was talking to the mass, Annabeth was busy reading Percy’s lips as he mouthed “This is fucking awesome.” She laughed and nodded, raising a sarcastic rock n’ roll symbol with her hand. Percy laughed, his face turning somewhat red as he repeated the action. “Earth to Percy,” Axe deadpanned into the microphone, making the black-haired boy start. “What are you…?” He trailed off, looking where Percy’s gaze had been trained, otherwise defined as Annabeth. “Lovebirds,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Stop flirting with Annabeth.”

Percy and Annabeth both blushed, a few faces turning back to look at her curiously. “No,” Percy answered finally, a defiant expression on his face. The majority of the crowd laughed, the others still looking at Annabeth as if she were a meteor that just crashed to earth.

“Percy?” someone said, next to her. “You’re with him?”

“Oh, no,” Annabeth clarified. “We’re just… Yeah.” _Eloquent_ , she thought to herself.

“You _are_ dating?” another girl asked, in front of her. “Sorry to be invasive. It’s just… weird. I thought you were smart and stuff?”

“I am,” the blond said, scoffing. “Doesn’t mean I can’t like him.”

“I know, but—”

“I know what you mean,” Annabeth said, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it.” She didn’t particularly feel like having an argument with someone in the crowd. She vaguely recognized the two girls; maybe she had a class with them. “We aren’t dating, for the record.”

Both girls nodded and looked back to the performance while other onlookers snapped back to attention as well. Annabeth glanced at Percy, who smiled stupidly before turning back to Axe. She watched Axe raise his eyebrows and Percy offer a thumbs up.

“Alright, looks like we’re gonna play a new song or two,” Axe announced, gaining a few shouts of approval from the crowd. He turned back to Percy again with raised eyebrows, to which the guitarist answered with a curt nod. “Black-haired beauty over here wrote them.”

That got a lot more cheers than Annabeth expected. By the way Percy ducked his head and smiled shyly, she could tell that he felt the same. “You guys are really good!” a girl in the audience shouted, getting a general consensus of agreement from the rest of the students.

Annabeth felt a surge of pride, despite the fact that it wasn’t technically _her_ band. All four boys smiled, shouting their thanks. “Original song number one,” Axe proclaimed, capturing the attention of the crowd. “This one’s called My Weakness.”

Annabeth raised both her eyebrows, immediately looking at Leo, who shrugged in response with a smile. Then she looked to Percy, who was staring at his guitar with a furrowed brow, focusing to ensure that he didn’t make a mistake.

Percy started laughing when the chorus hit—this radiant, carefree, borderline _gorgeous_ laugh that she could just barely hear over the music. Annabeth smiled at how lively he looked before casting her gaze across the rest of the boys, who held expressions of just as much joy. She couldn’t stop grinning as she stared at the band—not _her_ band, but still somehow hers—feeling honored to be watching a group of such talented boys singing. She would be able to say that they were her best friends in high school; she would be able to offer up a million silly pictures from car rides home and concerts. She almost felt like she could cry, her heart swelling up to the size of several air balloons.

It hit Annabeth like a ton of bricks when she realized that the only reason she was where she was could be accredited to Percy asking for one lie. If you would have told her six months prior that she would be painting again, managing a band, falling for a boy _in_ the band, _and_ listening to pop punk, she probably would have laughed in your face.

Annabeth peered up at the sky, wondering if her mom was proud of her. She wondered if her mom even had a clue what was happening down where her daughter was.

As Annabeth looked back to the band and caught Percy’s bright-eyed grin, she decided that she didn’t mind either way.

\--

After the show, most of the students mulled around on the grassy expanse, mingling with friends. Quite a few people approached the boys and showered them with compliments. (Axe got probably around 30 remarks that more or less said “I didn’t know you could sing!”) Annabeth let The Handwriting get the praise they deserved before she ambled up to them.

For a second, they all looked at her, making Annabeth raise her eyebrows. Then they exchanged a mischievous look with each other before Leo charged forward and nearly mauled her, the other boys following suit. The blond started half-laughing, half-choking back tears, and the boys hugged her tighter.

The bell rang, initiating a loud set of cheers from the student body. Annabeth pulled back from her friends, absorbing their post-performance high and feeling the adrenaline herself. She watched the frenzy of people heading for the parking lot until someone yanked on her hoodie sleeve. “What?” she asked, already turning to face Percy.

He grinned at her, shaking his head in disbelief. His smile looked a lot like slow Sunday mornings and the perfect cup of coffee when he said, “You’re more gone for her than I thought.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, in vain, since Percy dropped his forehead to hers lightly. “What?”

“You’re more gone for her than I thought,” he repeated, slowly and carefully before he closed his eyes and kissed her. Annabeth squeaked in surprise, gathering her wits and reaching up to grip his hair, instead getting a handful of a maroon beanie. She heard a small applause, and a “ _finally_ ” from next to her, but it was hardly on her radar as Percy reached up to hold her face in his hands. She could feel him smiling and partially laughing as he leaned into her, and Annabeth could hardly help it as she did the same. He pulled away, looking like he was regretting the action, but then he smiled.

“What did you mean?” Annabeth blurted, still flushed, her hands shaking more than she wanted to admit.

He smirked, kissing her between each word as he said, “It’s what Axe said at Rockfest.”

“That was four months ago,” the blond managed, hardly having the breath. “He said that _four months ago_?”

“I’m aware,” Percy answered with a wry smile. Annabeth held his beanie in her hand from where she had pulled a little too much. She stared at it blankly as Percy continued to smile softly at her.

“Right,” Leo said from beside them, fracturing the moment. “Now that that’s over with. Annabeth, can I have a ride home?”

She huffed out a laugh, holding Percy’s beanie in front of his face. “Oops,” she whispered.

He groaned in mock annoyance, kissing her quickly three times. “Everyone’s seeing my bed head.”

“Hey,” Leo interrupted, rolling his eyes to rid of his smile. “I seriously need a ride.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth answered, overwhelmed by Percy’s adoring gaze, “yeah, that’s fine.” She reached an unsteady hand up to Percy’s eye, running her thumb across his eyelashes. He raised an eyebrow, pulling back slightly, and Annabeth shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. I just. You have pretty eyelashes.”

“You’re weird,” Percy said, his words almost dripping with endearment as his eyes scanned her face, as if he hadn’t seen her in years and he needed to memorize her all over again. “Well, you better take the man home. Come to my house after, though.”

“Eager, aren’t you?” Leo commented, looking smug.

“To tell my mother,” Percy clarified, rolling his eyes. He put his arm over Annabeth’s shoulder and kept it there the whole way to the car.

Annabeth hesitated before she rested her arm around his waist, letting her fingers settle in the dip of his hip bone. He leaned into her hair, and she had a feeling he was hiding a smile. Annabeth looked down at her freehand, staring at the sleeve that was settled in the middle of her palm, and she smiled.

She smiled, because now, when she got a vision of a man handing her a warm cup of coffee as she pulled her sleeves over her hands, he wasn’t faceless. Not even a little.

\--

“Ready?” Annabeth asked, closing her textbook and pushing it into her backpack before opening the car door.

“I can’t believe you brought a textbook to our biggest gig in months.”

“I need to pass my classes, excuse me!” she protested, hip-checking him.

“Take a night off every once in awhile,” Percy suggested, holding her shoulder tightly in a side hug. “Healthy stress, remember? You’re unhealthy.”

“Says the boy who ate a full carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream last night,” Annabeth retorted, raising an eyebrow. “We need to go shopping.”

Percy hummed in agreement. “I need more brownie mix.”

“You _want_ more brownie mix,” the blond corrected her boyfriend.

“It’s been three years and you’re still telling me that brownie mix _isn’t_ a necessity,” he deadpanned. “I don’t understand you at all.” He held the back entrance open for her, nodding to the security guy and explaining with a ‘she’s with me.’

He led her down the hall and swung a door open, greeting his bandmates. Axe pulled Annabeth in for a hug, and she reached up to pat at his hair. “Purple?”

“Got tired of the blue,” Axe explained, fingering his vibrant streak. “Gotta keep things interesting.”

“How’s the tattoo?”

“Stings a bit, still, but it’s worth it.” Annabeth glanced down to Axe’s wrist, smiling at the set of four numbers she saw there. “I’ve been wanting to get it forever, anyways.”

“8-1-2-3,” Nico joined in, smiling at Axe.

“Address of the practice home,” Leo added, placing a hand over his heart. “Oh, the sentimental value.” Annabeth smiled, reaching over and grabbing Percy’s right wrist, running her thumb over the tattoo that matched Axe’s perfectly.

“It’s a great idea,” Annabeth contributed, smiling up at Percy. “You sap.”

“I’m gonna get an ‘A’ right here,” he promised, tapping the side of his neck.

“You aren’t.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” the boy returned, sticking his tongue out childishly.

“You guys still act like you’re eighteen. Amazing,” Nico stated with sarcasm. “Inspirational.”

“You make me feel so young,” Percy sing songed, placing a sloppy kiss on Annabeth’s cheek. She pushed him off and rubbed her cheek on her sleeve.

“We’re only twenty-two,” Annabeth informed Nico. “It’s not like we’re ninety.”

There was a knock on the door before a thin woman leaned in. “Fifteen until go-time. Anything you guys need?”

“Take this pretty lady to side stage, if you will,” Percy requested.

“I was planning on being in the crowd tonight,” Annabeth said, frowning. “I want the full experience.”

“No,” the black-haired boy told her, lightening the command with a quick kiss. “Side stage.”

“I don’t want to—”

“Annabeth,” Percy beseeched, “the crowd is too big. I’m worried. Side stage, please.” Annabeth held his gaze, narrowing her eyes. “Please,” he repeated, his eyes pleading.

“Fine,” the blond cracked, rolling her eyes. “Side stage it is.” She headed for the door, calling a ‘good luck’ over her shoulder and following the wiry woman.

\--

“Hey!” Axe called, holding his hand out flat, lowering it to signal the crowd to quiet down. “I have an announcement to make!”

“Not really,” Leo shouted, Annabeth barely hearing him over the noise. The artist herself was a bit bewildered at the turn out. The guys had been slowly booking bigger and bigger gigs through the years, but it was astonishing when she looked back on the low-key bars.

“Not really,” Axe agreed, laughing a little. The audience was mostly silent, talking amongst themselves as Axe crooked a finger at Percy. “Come on, then, old chap!”

Percy grinned, placing his guitar in the stand and jogging up to the main microphone. An appreciative cheer rose up, and Annabeth smiled along with him. “Right. So… hi.” The crowd laughed along with him, and the blond noticed him scratch behind his ear—the weirdest nervous habit she had ever seen someone develop. “As some of you may know, I’ve had this _amazing_ girlfriend for a few years…” Annabeth raised both of her eyebrows at the loud response from the audience and Percy’s mention. “Exactly three and a half, to be exact, but tonight’s kind of special.” The blond clapped a hand over her smile. “September 29th, three years ago, Annabeth Chase was seeing The Handwriting for the first time.”

Annabeth was so busy watching Percy that she hardly registered the fact that Axe was pulling on her wrist. “Come on!” he said, giving her a knowing smile.

“What’s—?”

“Anyways, so my point is, tonight’s pretty special because it was essentially our first date,” Percy proceeded, “even if I kind of forced her into going with me.” He must have made a face at the crowd, because the majority of them snickered. Percy turned to Annabeth, smiling brightly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Annabeth said, too overwhelmed to keep her voice steady.

He bit his lip, facing the audience again and speaking into the microphone. “So, now, I’m going to make tonight a little more special, if that’s alright?” Percy beamed at the encouragement from the people—who were all there to see the band he was in.

Annabeth stopped breathing when Percy turned back to her, and knelt down, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a black, velvet box.

\--

When she hears the two clicks and a whistle, she already knows what’s happening outside her window without even casting her eyes towards the cold glass.

Her husband’s probably standing there, in all his glory, holding a bouquet of flowers, because tonight’s their six-month anniversary. Tossing her copy of _Walden_ onto the pillow next to her and nearly tripping over a drying canvas, she rushes for the window and slides it open.

“Hi!” he calls up, shaking the flowers. “Bought you something.”

“I see that,” she answers, unable to restrain a lovestruck smile. “How was work?”

“Much less pretty than you,” he answers, causing a roll of her eyes. “I have dinner reservations for two. Do you want me to catch you, or something?”

“Shut up,” she says through a laugh. “Come inside. I’m not ready yet.”

She hears their front door close and footsteps until he’s standing in front of her with what looks like eight, classic roses in his hand. “Hey there, wife.”

“Fancy seeing you here, husband.” She smiles something stupid, kissing him quickly. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”

He nods and kisses her again before stumbling out of their room. She hears him singing while he pours a glass of something, probably orange juice, if she knows her husband at all. She turns toward the window, shutting it with practiced ease and getting ready as quickly as possible.

Before she leaves, she glances out the window again. All she sees is an empty road and a bright, yellow street light illuminating the asphalt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story! It truly means a lot, and I hope you enjoyed it. There's a few links for you below!
> 
>  
> 
> [fandom blog](http://asiangansey.tumblr.com/) | [playlist](http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Ways+To+Go/90455138) | [more about ways to go](http://maydayparade8123.tumblr.com/post/61263078124/do-not-enter-if-you-havent-read-the-last) | [ways to go tag](http://maydayparade8123.tumblr.com/tagged/fic:wtg)
> 
>  **9/25/2015:** I've been meaning to drop by and share some news: the Axe dude? Yeah, he's the protag of the novel I'm working on. He's changed so, so much, and I go back and I read this and it's like he's a whole different person from who he is now. This is the fic in which I created him. He was going to be a throwaway character, like this behind-the-scenes lead singer who was too good for the rest of the group, but... I got attached. He shows up in some other fics. And he got his own damn book. So, what I'm really here to say is _thank you_ , thank you so much for supporting me as a writer and this work, specifically. It was the first time I created an OC and had them stick around to be a real part of the story; all the other ones I created came and went. You guys, my readers, encouraged me and told me how much you liked him, so I kept him around. I'm not even sure I would have started my own novel had I not had that support. I hope you enjoyed reading this work, and I hope you're having an okay day, too.
> 
> All of my blogs are linked on my profile, if you want to get in touch. I also have an email available on my profile. Let me know if you need anything at all.


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